


I think I like You

by Tutselutse



Series: I Hate Everything But You [1]
Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awkward Flirting, Drinking, Drunk Sex, Emma Perkins' fear of attachment, Emma and Zoey enjoy their mutual dislike, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Making Out, Mild Sexual Content, Paul Matthews F U C K S, Paul Matthews is an Awkward King, Pining, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24573865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tutselutse/pseuds/Tutselutse
Summary: Emma's idea is simple enough: begin sleeping with the awkward guy from Beanies as a distraction from her shitty life. No rules, no strings, just fun. However, real life is never simple, and Oh My God, now she is in for a realization.This fic is inspired bythiswonderful song from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Series: I Hate Everything But You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902307
Comments: 194
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shoutout to lilfinch and gooddaysunshine for being the absolute best hypemen for this fic! <3<3  
> This is basically just an excuse for writing paulkins makeouts.  
> Since it is inspired by CEG, I'll be sneaking in a few quotes and song titles.

Paul sips his beer, and ignores the way Ted keeps elbowing him and pointing at women at the bar. Bill is drinking a Shirley Temple, because he is the designated driver. He insisted on it, in fact, which left Paul as Ted's drinking buddy. Paul is on his third beer and since they haven't had much to eat, he is getting somewhat buzzed.

Bill is complaining about his ex-wife and another dispute about their daughter. Paul feels sorry for Alice, being stuck between those two has to suck. Ted is clearly not paying attention, instead staring blatantly at the bartender, adding comments about her sending him looks. It makes Paul want to roll his eyes - Ted's confidence when it comes to hook-ups is impressive. He goes for women way out of his league and he's always confused when they refuse him.

"Was Charlotte going to show up?" Bill asks.

"I don't know," Paul answers.

"She had plans with Sam," Ted shrugs, before adding, "... I think."

"It would be likely for a husband and wife to spend Friday night together," Bill says, a knowing smile on his lips.

"Yeah," Paul nods. He and Bill exchange looks. They have a silent agreement to pretend they don't know about Ted and Charlotte, even though they do. Whenever Charlotte's marriage suffers, she throws herself into unhealthy habits, like smoking and drinking. And fucking Ted, apparently. Paul isn't sure which he thinks is the worst habit. You'd think it was smoking, but _Ted_.

"I need another drink," Ted says, downing his whiskey on the rocks. He looks at Paul's beer and says "You're getting one too."

"No, no!" Paul tries to argue, but Ted has already walked away. He looks at Bill. "I better be designated driver next time."

"We'll see, I have a daughter to watch," Bill says with a grin.

"She's seventeen," Paul argues, but Bill just shrugs. They discuss work a little, Mr. Davidson has been extra tired and zesty the past few weeks. Bill says he suspects marriage problems, and Paul tells him he always thinks that.

"I am usually right," Bill smirks before taking a sip.

" _Guys_ ," Ted says, sliding in next to them. He places a drink in front of Paul. "I just spotted the _latte hottay_."

Paul perks up, trying not to seem interested. Ted smiles smugly and does a very not-subtle gesture towards her. Paul turns his head, and tries to scan the crowd. His stomach flutters, when he spots her. She's next to one of the other girls from Beanies, and she's currently throwing down shots.

She's so pretty.

Paul can feel himself get flustered just by looking at her. The thing is, she is not just a pretty face. She is also snarky and seems to have a quick temper. He has seen her yell at and flip off several customers by now, but she always smiles at him and responds to his awkward attempts at small talk.

Yeah, he has it pretty bad, but unlike Ted, he doesn't throw himself at women way out of his league. So, he opts for just ordering coffee and talking to her. Paul returns his attention towards Bill and Ted, who are eyeing him with way too much amusement. "Shut up," Paul tells them. He empties his beer and frowns at the drink from Ted.

* * *

Emma is drunk. She's currently laughing into her hand, while some random guy attempts to flirt with Zoey. He doesn't seem to have noticed the dead look in Zoey's eyes while he talks, but Emma has, and it's the funniest thing ever. She knows that it's not a good idea to go drinking with Zoey. She doesn't even like her. However, work had been _awful_ today, so when Zoey suggested alcohol, Emma had agreed, even though she'd normally never voluntarily hang out with people from work.

She lets her gaze drift around the room, stopping momentarily, when she spots three customers from Beanies. A delighted grin spreads across her face as she recognizes them. It was the polite one, the creepy one and the awkward one. She turns to tell Zoey, having forgotten the man attempting to flirt.

"Hey dicknose, read the room. She ain't into it," Emma tells him. The guy gapes like a fish, before looking at Zoey, clearly hoping for her to deny Emma's claims.

"Sorry, dude," Zoey says sweetly, doing a _toodle-doo_ motion with her fingers.

"Bitches," the guy sneers, before storming off. Emma laughs again.

"Okay _one_ , I need more booze, and _two,_ three of our regulars are over by that table," she gestures. Zoey looks at them, and grimaces.

"Ugh it's the creepy one," she says. Emma nods. They order two rum and cokes and drink them while looking around the bar. Three people are dancing in the corner. The guy from before has approached another pair of girls.

The thing is, they don't have much to talk about, so Emma ends up drinking her drink extremely fast. She hardly removes the straw from her mouth. She accidentally makes eye contact with the awkward Beanies dude once, and he immediately looks away.

"We should dance," Zoey declares.

"Absolutely not," Emma says. Zoey puts down their empty glasses and drags Emma with her.

"How else will we find out which of us is the better dancer?" Zoey asks. Damn her for appealing to Emma's competitive side!

"Fine," Emma says, "I'm wiping the floor with you."

"You can try," Zoey chirps.

* * *

The cute barista has gone onto the dance-floor and Paul is halfway through the terrible drink Ted got him. The alcohol is making his head heavier and he is starting to find more things funny. This is the good state, where he can control his body, but not the amount of giggles.

His eyes keeps drifting to the barista though. He shouldn't look at her so much. It's rude. But she's swaying her hips and moving effortlessly to the music and it's _mesmerizing._ It's different from watching people sing and dance, so it doesn't make him uncomfortable. There is no choreography, just a girl moving to the beat.

"Paul, stop staring." Ted snaps his fingers. "listen."

"What?" Paul asks, looking back at his friends.

"Do you agree? Are you in?" Ted asks.

"Yeah, okay?" Paul says, before remembering that this is _Ted_ , and you should never agree to what he suggests, if you haven't heard 100 % of what he said. _Shit._

"Okay, tequila shots and then we go talk to some girls," Ted says. Paul gulps.

"No, no! Not tequila! Please," he says, and Ted does finger guns at him and leaves. _Dammit_. He jumps up and runs after him. He nearly slips in some spilled liquid in front of the bar, sliding into Ted.

"Gheez Paul, relax," Ted laughs. He claps Paul on the shoulder. "I'll let you choose your next drink instead."

"Can I just have a beer?" Paul asks.

"Nope," Ted pops the _p_ and hands Paul a menu. His eyes scan the different drinks, looking for something that isn't too much. He settles on dark n' stormy, since it doesn't sound too bad. They order, and watch the bartender mix the drinks. Well, Paul loses his train of thought and looks back to the small dance-floor. The barista has disappeared now. He turns back around, a little bummed out. Ted hands him the drink, and they walk back to Bill.

Paul likes this drink. He sips from the straw, while Ted scours the girls in the bar. "We don't have to talk to girls," Paul says.

"Yes, we do," Ted replies, "you need to get laid, Paul!"

Paul scoffs and looks at Bill for backup. Bill just shrugs. "Fuck you. Both."

Ted ends up deciding on two girls sitting at a corner table, drinking mojitos. He drags Paul over there, and interrupts their conversation by placing a hand on the table, leaning down and saying _"_ Hey ladies."

Paul tries to send them both an apologetic look. The dark-haired one smiles politely at Ted and returns his greeting. Ted starts talking about something. The fair-haired girl smiles at Paul. He smiles back. She pushes hair behind her ear.

"This is Paul," Ted says, clapping his shoulder. Paul coughs and fiddles with his straw. The girl keeps looking at him, expecting him to say something.

"Excuse me," he says and then he runs off, ignoring the _ey!_ from Ted. He rushes towards the men's bathroom, hoping to hide in there a bit, and then returning to Bill. When he walks through the door, he collides with someone. Someone small.

"Watch it, beanpole!" _It's her_! The barista from Beanies.

"Sorry," Paul says, before giving her a skeptical look. "Why are you in the men's room?"

"There was a line to the ladies'," she shrugs. Then she steps to the side, "Go do your business."

" _Oh, uh_ ," Paul feels flustered, "I am actually hiding from my coworker and the string of girls he tries to pick up." This makes her snort-laugh, scrunching up her nose.

"Funny. I'm hiding from my coworker and the string of men who tries to pick her up," she says, offering him a smile. Like they are sharing a joke. Paul's stomach flutters.

"Friday night drinks with work is always a treat," he jokes. She snort-laughs again.

"I know you, right?" she says, looking up at him.

" _Uh_ ," he says, "yeah. Yeah."

"I see you in Beanies all the time," she says, "what's your name?"

"Paul," he answers.

"Hi Paul," she grins, "I'm Emma." Then she squeezes past him out the door. Paul watches her go. "Dude," she turns around, "I want a beer."

"Right," Paul says, and follows her. She doesn't really speak or acknowledge him, so he wonders if he understood right. Maybe she didn't want him to follow her after all. He waits behind her while she orders a beer. He feels too big and weird, looming behind her like a predator.

"Do you want anything?" she asks, turning around.

"No, I am set," Paul answers, lifting his half-finished drink. Emma blows a raspberry and turns back around, picking up a large glass of draft beer.

"You have to keep me company for a while, so Zoey leaves me alone," she says, and gestures for him to follow her. They sit down by a small table, and Emma takes a long drink from her beer.

"Ted won't bother me if he sees me with a girl," Paul says. It makes Emma send him a toothy grin, before winking. Paul can feel a blush creep up his neck.

They drink in silence. Paul's heart is hammering against his ribs. He doesn't know what to say, but he wants her to like talking to him. He wants to make a good impression. Finally Emma takes pity on him and asks where he works. They talk a little about what they do. Emma works at Beanies and studies at community college.

"So, do... do you like films?" he asks. She raises one eyebrow.

"Just films? In general?" she looks very amused, " _yes_."

"Which ones?" he asks.

"Do you want me to list all the films I like? Or just the genres?"

Paul laughs, a little nervous. She's sharp and funny, and the dimmed lights are making her eyes darker and more gleaming than the light in Beanies. It feels so surreal to sit here in front of her and talk. "Whatever you want? We're killing time right?" he says. She narrows her eyes momentarily, before smiling.

"I think _She's The Man_ is a cinematic masterpiece and we as a society do not appreciate Amanda Bynes enough," she answers. Paul laughs.

"I haven't seen that, but I am sure it's good," he nods.

"Dude, it's legit a Shakespeare play turned into a coming of age rom-com-ish film. Channing fucking Tatum is in it," she explains, gesturing widely.

"I'll have to check it out," he says, "what play?"

"Twelfth Night," Emma says, "I hated reading it in high school, but it has some merit I guess."

Paul laughs and finishes his drink, creating loud noises with the straw. Emma laughs at him. Before he can say anything else, a long-haired girl appears. Paul recognizes her from Beanies. There is a guy behind her. "We're gonna go," the girl says with a smirk.

"Have fun," Emma says, before taking another gulp of beer. Paul feels drunk and nervous, like his whole body is wired. He nods at the two others before leaning back in his seat.

* * *

Emma has managed to convince Paul to go outside for some air. She's now sitting on a small step next to Paul, with his jacket around her shoulders. She's still in her Beanies uniform and it's cold outside. Well, Paul said it was cold, she's drunk so she trusts his judgment. After some consideration, she has decided that he's cute. He has a round jaw and big, round eyes, and he's definitely a little awkward and nervous around her. It's still cute. He's so tall and lean and soft-looking. Plus, his jacket smells nice. He's warm, so she scoots closer.

Paul is trying to explain something about people at work and a fucking softball league he doesn't want to join, and Emma isn't really paying attention to the words. She's watching his full lips form the words though. It's been a long time since she kissed anyone, and his lips look really soft and nice. She's drunk and in a good mood and there is a cute guy next to her.

"They keep saying _it could be fun_ , but they haven't seen me try to hit a ball, _or_ throw one for tha-" she interrupts him by sitting up and pressing her lips against his. He stiffens, and she places a hand on his neck. It makes him melt into the kiss, and she tilts her head slightly so she can deepen it. She was right, his lips are fucking soft and warm. She hums under her breath, opening her mouth slightly. Paul's hand lands on her shoulder tentatively.

They kiss for a while. She's sure the tip of her nose must feel cold against his. Finally she pulls back and smiles at him. "I'd invite you back to my apartment, but it's literally smaller than a shoebox."

"Oh," Paul says. He smiles politely at her. Emma waits, but he doesn't say anything else. She sighs deeply and leans in, kissing him again, licking along his bottom lip. He tastes like ginger beer. Then she pulls back again and gives him a _look_. After several excruciating seconds he clears his throat " _Uh_. Do you wanna come back to my place?" he asks, looking nervous and almost bashful.

"That sounds good," Emma says. She bites her lip while her gaze drops down to his. They kiss again.

She needs to find her denim jacket somewhere though, so she gets up and goes back inside. Paul is waiting outside, his hands in his pockets. Emma grins, stopping in front of him. "Lead the way," she says. Paul smiles. They walk in silence through Hatchetfield. Emma and Zoey walked from Beanies, so her car is still there. Not that she's in any state to drive right now.

"Is it far?" she asks after a while.

"No, just through downtown, and then up behind the Church," he explains. Emma nods, kicking a bottle on the street. Hopefully she won't wake up to the sound of Church bells.

"Cool," she says.

"How was your day?" Paul asks after some more time has passed.

"I had a terrible day at work. It was like Pearl Harbor meets the movie Pearl Harbor. One of the machines broke, the milk was leaking and then the rudest customer showed up. She's rich and annoying and I swear she has a new nose once a year. She was being a bitch, and my boss is super after me these days, because I am mean or whatever, so I couldn't tell her to shove the cold pastry up her bleached asshole."

Paul starts to laugh at this. Not the soft, nervous way he had earlier. No, this is a full, uncontrolled laughter. It sounds nice, actually. "That sucks," he says.

"Zoey and me had one of our few bonding moments," Emma tells him, pausing for dramatic effect, "we both spat in her coffee."

"Is that something you do often?" Paul asks, eyeing her suspiciously.

" _Nooo_ ," Emma lies. She fights a giggle.

"Not sure I believe you," Paul comments, sending her a look. Emma just smiles secretively.

"How was your day?" she asks. It's kind of weird to walk through her hometown with this flagpole of a guy, talking about their day, when they are on their way to his home to bone.

"It was okay," Paul shrugs, "handed in my weekly reports. Talked to my coworkers. Went to buy a cup of coffee at this local coffee shop, but now I'm worried there was spit in it."

Emma chuckles. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She bumps her shoulder into his arm. She would have aimed for _his_ shoulder, but it's too high up. The streets are mostly deserted, and the air is damp, like it's filled with dust-sized drops of water. Emma's legs are clammy and cold. She hopes they are there soon. This long walk isn't exactly putting her more in the mood.

Finally she can see the Church and Paul turns down a small street. They walk up it for a while, and Emma inspects the small houses. They stop outside a small blue suburban, with a little porch and a path lined with bushes. The porch light is on, and it looks small and cozy. Paul smiles sheepishly and gestures for Emma to go first up the path.

She watches Paul unlock the door and follows him into a small hallway, with a staircase next to the door. Paul looks at her expectantly. "Can I get a glass of water?" she asks. She takes off her jacket and hangs it on the coat hanger next to a small dresser. There is a mirror hanging over it, and she inspects her makeup. A little smeared, but not too bad.

Paul returns with two glasses, and Emma takes hers and gulps the water down. She places the glass on the dresser and looks at Paul again. He drinks from his glass, so she takes off her shoes, and walks a step up the stairs. She turns around and watches Paul. He walks over, looking at her curiously.

"You're tall, so," she shrugs. When he is close enough, she just lets herself fall forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him again. He _oofs_ as he catches her, but kisses her back. His mouth is warm, but the shoulders of his jacket are cold and damp against her arms, so she pushes his jacket off. They kiss some more, and Emma's body wakes up, remembering why she wanted to go home with him. His hands are large and they rest against her hips. It feels good, but she'd like him to move them around more. She kisses him harder, hoping it will inspire him.

It kind of works, as one hand slides onto the small of her back and pushes her closer against him. She makes a noise, pushing her chest up against his. "Are you - would you - should we go upstairs?" he asks, stumbling over his words.

"I'd like that," Emma says against his lips. He takes a step up, immediately making him much taller than her. Emma has to crane her neck backwards to continue kissing him. She sighs before breaking the kiss.

Walking up the stairs, following him, is also weird. The hooking up is on pause while walking, but it would be weird to have a conversation, so there is just awkward silence and anticipation. He leads her into the bedroom, and she pushes him up against the nearest wall and kisses him again. He is starting to kiss her back hungrier, both of them breathing heavier. He is a _good_ kisser. Emma congratulates herself - she always makes great decisions when she's drunk. She's not too drunk though. Which is good. She's sure she won't regret this tomorrow. Paul is removing his tie, so she begins to unbutton his shirt.

They stop kissing for a moment, looking at each other and laughing nervously. Emma begins to remove her own clothes, opening her buttons. She has never been good at pulling sexy moves like this, but Paul seems mesmerized by the movement of her hands. He audibly sucks in a breath when she removes the shirt, revealing a thin tank top. She pushes down her shorts and then Paul moves forward, kissing her and touching her. He didn't get very far with his own clothes, so she helps him get the shirt off at least.

They walk to the bed, still kissing. Emma sits down on the edge, and Paul straightens himself up, removing his t-shirt and pants. She looks up at him, biting her lip as her eyes roam over his body. He's hiding a quite nice bod under his clothes. He isn't buff or anything, but he's more built than his suit indicated. She likes his arms, his long limbs and the hip bones poking out above his boxers. She also likes what's poking out from inside his boxers.

She reaches down and lifts her shirt over her head. Then she crawls backwards onto the bed and he follows her. They resume kissing, desperate for more contact. She wants to be closer to him. As close as she can get. She flips them around so she's on top, and trails kisses down his chest. Paul's breathing goes deep and heavy, like he is trying to calm himself down. Emma smiles as she flicks her tongue over his skin. She likes taking her time, driving him a little mad with anticipation.

When the last bits of clothes have been removed and they have kissed so much her lips are getting swollen, Paul's hand trails down her stomach, and he looks her directly in the eyes and asks if she wants him to continue. Emma smiles and nods. This is what she came here for. 

* * *

Paul wakes up to a small headache. He looks over and even though his vision is blurry, he can see a naked back and dark wavy hair lying next to him. _Emma._ She's still here. For some reason he is surprised, like the whole night had been a dream. It's not though. He is in his own bed and the barista from Beanies is next to him. After they spent the night together. _Yowza._ Even though he feels hungover, with pain in his head and a mouth like sandpaper, he's incredibly happy. His heart flutters when he looks over at her.

_Emma._

He rubs his eyes. He doesn't want to be creepy, but he kind of wants to roll over and smell her hair. He sighs and closes his eyes. He doesn't fall asleep again, he just spaces out and thinks about the events of last night. When she suddenly kissed him outside the bar. When he finally realized she was fishing for him to invite her home. Walking through the city, the cool air clearing his head a little from the alcohol. When she practically threw herself at him from the stairs.

His brain had short-circuited when she removed her clothes. He blushes as the following events play in front of his eyes. She's small and sharp, but also has some incredible curves. He thinks about when she was above him and she took out her hair, so it tumbled down, framing her face and covering his view of the rest of the room, so he could only see her.

There's a stirring beside him, and when he looks, Emma is in the middle of sitting up, her back turned to him. The sheet slides down, so he can see part of her ass, as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed. It's not until she's putting on her underwear he realizes she could be leaving.

"Morning," he says, his voice thick from sleep. Maybe also a little hoarse?

"Morning," she replies, turning around and smiling. Paul quickly grabs his glasses from the bedside table and looks back at her, seeing her more clearly now. It's like a punch to the gut. She's so fucking pretty. Dark hair and eyes, slightly smeared makeup and lips a little red from kissing. He can see a red line on her cheek, probably from a crease on the pillowcase. "Where the fuck is my shirt?" she mutters.

"Uh, floor. Closer to the door," Paul answers, sitting up. He's starting to feel a little weird about being the only one naked.

"Thanks," she says, doing finger guns at him, before getting up and walking around looking for her clothes. He watches her pull on her shorts in silence. He's not sure how to ask her where she's going. He wants to make her breakfast. Or at least tell her she can use his shower.

"You're leaving?" he finally gets out.

"Yeah, I have a shift at Beanies," she says, looking around on the floor while she buttons her shirt. "I have to walk back to work, get my car, go back home and change my underwear, and then go to work."

"Want me to drive you?" Paul asks.

"That won't be necessary," she replies, while picking up the black bow thing from the floor. She starts tying it. It looks pretty lopsided, but she just shrugs. "No need for you to get out of your comfy bed. You got hella soft sheets, dude. I'm impressed." She winks.

"Thanks," he replies. He wants to ask if he can see her again, but her behavior is skittish, like she wants to get away from him. It makes his throat tighten.

"This was very nice," she says, walking over to him. "I had fun."

"Me too," Paul says meekly. Emma leans down and gives him a quick peck on the lips.

"Have a nice weekend," she says and then she turns around and starts walking out of the room. Paul scrambles to his feet, grabbing his boxers and putting them on clumsily. He should ask her about seeing her again! Then he hears her shriek.

"Emma!" he yells, nearly tripping as he runs after her. She's standing in the hall, mouth and nose covered with both hands. She's shaking. It takes him a second to realize she's laughing.

"Your fucking cat scared me," she says, looking up at him. He looks down and yes, Lettuce is currently rubbing her face on Emma's ankle. She's a striped Manx cat with a white belly and paws. Paul loves her more than anything.

"She must have gotten back during the night," Paul says. He walks over and crouches down so he can pet her. He picks her up. "Emma, meet Lettuce."

Emma makes a chortling noise. "You cat is named _Lettuce_?!" She reaches out and pets her.

"Yeah. Adopted her from one of my friends, when their cat had load of kittens. His daughter named all the kittens." Paul explains. He leaves out the fact that it was the _teenage_ daughter and her probably stoned girlfriend, who thought it was funny when they name them.

"Cute," Emma says, scratching Lettuce's chin, "so the others are named Tomato, Bacon and Sandwich?"

"I think one of them is named Spoon," Paul says, "I don't know, they all got adopted. Maybe their owners renamed them."

"But you stuck with Lettuce?" Emma says it like a question. She looks up at him, something unreadable in her dark eyes.

"It's a fun word to say," he shrugs, "it fits well in your mouth."

Emma snickers at that. She pets the cat a little more. "Nice to meet you, Lettuce. Even if you scared the shit out of me. But I guess that's not your fault. Your stupid owner could have warned me that he has a cat." Lettuce purrs. Paul does an internal fist-pump. His cat likes Emma. That's important.

"Sorry," he says with a laugh, when her words register. "I wasn't really thinking. Much."

"Fair," Emma says, "but you should remember that. I mean, next time you bring a girl home. She could be allergic."

"Are you?" he asks, suddenly worried.

"No, dummy," Emma laughs. "I really gotta go. My boss will kill me if I'm late." She begins to leave, and Paul follows her, still holding onto Lettuce.

"So, are - uh - am I-" he stumbles over his words, when she's walking out the door.

Emma smiles and says "See ya!", while she waves. Paul puts Lettuce down as he watches her leave. _Oh. Ow_. He closes the door and walks into his kitchen. _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR READING!!!!  
> I hope you liked it. Let me know!  
> (also if you spot a typo or a mistake, tell me. I am a simple Danish gal, always looking to impove my English. your commas are so hard)  
> FUN FACT: I almost named it _oh my god i think i like you_ , thus making both my paulkins fanfics start with oh my god. haha. But it would just end up being a theme and then i'd HAVE to do it a third time.
> 
> ALSO PLEASE WATCH CRAZY EX-GIRLFRIEND. IT'S FANTASTIC. AND CURT MEGA HAS A TINY ROLE IN ONE EPISODE IN S1.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I snuck in a Jumanji: welcome to the jungle quote too, because it seemed perfect.  
> THANKS FOR THE KUDOS AND COMMENTS.

It's Thursday and Emma is at work. She's very busy. Zoey is in the back, on vocal rest or something again. There is a lot of dirty mugs and plates that need washing, but there is a line of impatient customers and no one knows where Nora has gone. Emma finishes making hot chocolate for a tall kid with suspenders. She hands it to him with a very fake smile, before focusing on the next customer.

Finally she has a small break in customers and grabs the tray of dirty mugs and plates and carries them into the back, where the dishwasher is. Zoey doesn't look up from her phone. Emma begins loading the dishwasher loudly. After a moment she looks up at Zoey and sighs.

"Are you gonna help? Or are you _too pretty_?" she asks.

"I'm too pretty," Zoey replies with a sickly sweet smile. Emma rolls her eyes. She supposes she set herself up for that one. When the dishwasher is started, she returns to the counter, spotting a small line.

"Sorry sir," she says, "we're a little understaffed today. Can I help you?" After finishing his order, she notices who is next in line. It's Paul and his friend with the mustache. Paul looks at her and immediately blushes a deep red. She hasn't seen him since she left his house Saturday morning. She thought he would be back on Monday, but no. She had been a little surprised, when he was a no show.

"Can I help you?" she asks politely.

* * *

Paul has avoided Beanies since Emma left his house. Something about showing up at her work just feels wrong now. Like he's stalking her or something. Of course everyone at work has noticed, which makes him embarrassed about his past behavior. Bill keeps asking if he wants to go to Beanies. Charlotte looks at him with wide and confused eyes, when he says no. He must have been way too obvious before.

Now it's Thursday and Ted has bugged him into going. Paul had prayed the whole way there that Emma wouldn't be at work, but _nope._ She's standing there behind the counter, smiling expectantly at him. All the air has left his lungs and he isn't sure he knows how to speak. She's _so_ beautiful. Her hair is pinned up, the bow on her shirt is more even today and he can't believe he has seen her naked under a week ago.

"I'd like a chai iced tea, and Paul?" Ted turns to him and Paul opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

"Black coffee, right?" Emma says confidently, pointing at him. Because she remembers from all the times he has come in. He isn't sure whether he should feel flattered or mortified, so he settles for feeling both.

"Yeah, yeah," he nods, "that's right."

There is an amused smile on her lips, like she's enjoying watching him being flustered. She probably is. "I'll bring it right up."

He and Ted wait to the side. Paul's eyes keep drifting back to Emma as she works on their order. "Paul," Ted says, "you're being pathetic. You talked to her this Friday at the bar. Just ask her out." _Oh, if only he knew._

" _Ted_ ," Paul says, a hint of warning in his voice, "I don't want to talk about this."

"Fine, fine," Ted says, lifting up his arms. He is keeps smiling though, in a way that Paul finds concerning.

* * *

Emma hands them their orders, watching Paul carefully. He is a sweet guy, and the sex had been pretty good for a drunken first time. He seems super nervous around her now. She guesses he isn't used to one-night-stands.

"You know," the mustache guy says, "Paul here is quite the catch, right?"

" _Ted!"_

"Hey hey, I'm just sayin-" Ted grins, "wouldn't you agree?" He turns to Emma.

"He looks like he could show a girl a good time," she says, sending Paul a little eyebrow waggle. He blushes even deeper and drops his gaze. _Oh_ , this is too easy.

"Exactly," Ted says, clapping Paul on the shoulder, "You should give him your number." Emma glances at Paul, and has to press her lips together to keep from laughing. Paul is turtling backwards inside his shirt, mumbling something that sounds like _okay_ over and over.

"Sorry pal, I don't date," Emma says, directing her attention to Ted. Paul throws some money on the counter and practically runs out of the shop. Emma counts the money and smiles at Ted. "He has paid for yours too."

Ted points at her as a goodbye and then he walks after Paul. Emma sighs. She feels bad. Paul is nice, but like she said, she doesn't date. She doesn't really have time _and_ she isn't interested in anything that can tie her down, especially in Hatchetfield. She's guessing Paul hasn't told his friends about Friday, given his reaction. Or maybe he did, and that's why the friend is trying to get her to give Paul her number? Emma shrugs and focuses on the next person in line.

* * *

Paul has been moping, since that one trip to Beanies. It's been a week of him drinking cocoa at home and snuggling Lettuce, while he watches True Crime or listens to sad music. One night he heard Nirvana's cover of _Where Did You Sleep Last Night_? around ten times in a row. Even Lettuce seemed to judge him after that.

He has tried to go to Starbucks a few times, but Bill or Ted still convince him to go with them to Beanies as well. He tries to be polite to Emma, and she usually jokes and smiles. He still feels like he is aware of every cell in his body whenever she's near. He isn't sure how he is going to get over this, when she's there and pretty and funny and still so mean.

Melissa sits down next to him on Friday, while he shuts down the computer. "Paul," she says, "you look like the saddest puppy. We're gonna get drunk tonight."

Paul shakes his head. Getting drunk got him _into_ this mess in the first place. "No thanks."

"I got a bottle of rosé at my desk and that's final," she says. She gets up, but returns with a bottle and a stack of red solo cups. "Let's go."

"Melissa," he says, not sure how to tell her he isn't a fun party guy.

"I'm sad too," she explains. "It's sad gay stuff, I don't wanna explain. But drunkness is needed."

Paul complies. He is a little tempted by the prospect of being blissful and giggly and not thinking about Emma. He follows Melissa outside, and they sit on the patch of grass behind their office building. They drink, coming up with dumb drinking games based on their coworkers. When the bottle is empty, Melissa drags him out in search for beer and then later pizza. Paul is buzzing now and he can feel this bubble of _Emma_ inside of him, trying to break out and make him talk about her. When they sit down and wait for their food, it happens. Everything just spills out of him. Melissa listens intently.

"I just... I like her, okay. I want to see her again. But she doesn't date," he says.

"Maybe you should, I don't know, find a rebound?" Melissa says, sipping from her beer.

"I don't really do that," Paul grimaces.

"Oh, same. I think I'm giving it a shot though. I mean, at least a rebound flirt. You don't gotta bang her." Melissa is possibly more drunk than Paul. Her eyes are shiny behind her enormous glasses. She looks down at her phone. " _Ooh_ , my friends are at a club. _We should go!_ "

"No," Paul says.

"Yes," Melissa says.

They stand outside the club and Paul is already regretting it. Melissa is tugging at his arm excitedly. Inside, the club is loud, filled with people and a heavy bass. There is a bar in the corner and a dance-floor in the back. A swarm of girls attack them and pull them towards a table. Melissa's hand tightens around Paul's, anchoring them together. Paul tries to introduce himself to the girls, but he can't hear them through the music.

Some of them leave, and Melissa squeezes herself closer to Paul, grinning wide. He's glad he's not sober, because this is a lot. He wants to go home to Lettuce, but he promised Melissa he would stay for at least an hour.

"Hot girl at the bar!" Melissa's breath is warm against his ear, making him involuntarily pull back. He looks and _yeah_ , there is a few hot girls. However, none of them pique his interest like Emma does. Melissa's friends return with beer bottles and Paul takes one, sipping it while scanning the crowd. He feels like a fish out of water. He doesn't look much like any of the men in here. They have tattoos or manbuns or both. Melissa keeps pointing at girls, but she doesn't go to talk to them.

With not much to do, Paul drinks his beer pretty fast. Some of Melissa's friends have moved to the dance-floor. Paul lifts his empty bottle, wiggling it a little, then he points to the bar. Melissa nods. He gets up and joins the crowd of people in front of the bar, standing in line. He is taller than most of them, looking ahead. When he has ordered another beer for himself and Melissa, he leans against the counter and waits.

"Fucking hell!" a voice yells next to him, "you're the last person I expected to see here!" He looks down and spots her. _Emma_. Wearing tight black jeans, with a loose t-shirt tugged into them. Her hair is in a bun, and a few strands have escaped, now clinging to her neck. She looks like she has been dancing.

"Emma!" Paul yells back.

"You don't look like you're having fun!" she shouts, grinning.

"I'm not!"

She laughs. Or, she looks like she's laughing. He can't actually hear her. The bartender hands him the open beers, and after he has paid, Paul turns to find Melissa. Emma's hand pries one of the beers out of his hand and takes a sip. "Thanks!" she shouts and sends him a triumphant smile. Paul is unable to protest, getting a little lost in that smile. She grabs his arm and pulls him with her away from the bar. They end up against the wall, drinking the beers. She's standing close, and he can feel her bare arm against his. This is dangerous territory, but he likes being around her.

She finishes her beer first and Paul copies her, emptying his. The song ends and a new one plays. It's slower, and Emma grins. She grabs him again, pulling him with her. _Oh no,_ she's heading to the dance-floor. She turns around and promptly places Paul's hands on her hips. She places her own on his shoulders and begins to move to the music. Paul follows her lead cautiously. "I can't dance," he leans down so she can hear him.

" _Shhh_ ," she says. They sway back and forth, and Paul's brain is spinning from being close to her like this. He doesn't notice their surroundings, just her. Her eyes, the curve of her lips, the strand of her hair clinging to the side of her face. Emma is looking up at him, seeming almost as lost in the moment. Maybe she's just drunk? Maybe she is -

He is interrupted in his thoughts, when she stands on her toes and kisses him. Paul panics a little. He shouldn't do this, he likes her and he knows that this is going to hurt later. However, while his head is panicking and overthinking, his body acts on its own, kissing her back and pulling her in closer. She's so small against him, and she's kissing him eagerly, opening her mouth and licking into his. Paul loses track of time, all he feel is her.

Emma breaks the kiss. "Wanna get out of here?" 

Paul thinks he should say no, but he can still taste her and the beer, and her fingers are drawing lazily on his neck. " _Okay_ ," he says. Emma smiles wide before kissing him again. She takes his hand and drags him with her back through the crowd. Paul manages to make eye contact with Melissa, who immediately gives him thumbs up after seeing him leave with Emma.

She leaves him by the door, returning with the same denim jacket as last time. He follows her out. They walk a little down the street and then she kisses him again, dragging him down to her height. Paul is a little overwhelmed by her enthusiasm, but in the best way. "I live nearby," she says.

" _Mhmm_ ," Paul responds. He follows her down the street. She's right, it's not a long walk, even though she keeps stopping and kissing him. She pulls him closer, once they are inside the elevator, so she's squeezed in between him and the wall, and Paul can't stop himself from pressing himself against her. Emma makes a noise, kissing him hungrily.

The elevator _dings_ and they stumble out, still kissing. All of Paul's reserve has been left down on the street, now he's just hungry for more. He needs to be closer to her. If this is all he gets with her, he is going to make the best of it. Emma unlocks the door, opening it and then pulling Paul by the tie into the apartment. She kisses him, and they almost fall over, ending up leaning against the wall, in the middle of all her coats. Emma laughs, and Paul places his hands on the wall, one on either side of her face. He kisses her, enjoying how soft and warm her mouth is, the sound of her heavy breathing and the way her hands feel as they press against his neck and back.

One of the coats fall down, and Emma breaks the kiss. She takes his hand and pulls him with her towards a door. Inside is her bedroom, which is dimly lit by a streetlight outside. Paul doesn't have time to notice anything else, because Emma pushes him down on the bed, straddles him and throws off her t-shirt. Paul places his hands on her hips, tightening his grip as she leans down and kisses him. She begins kissing down his neck. Each nip sends shivers down his spine and he can't help the groan that escapes from his throat. He can feel Emma chuckle against his skin. She readjusts her position and Paul moans.

Emma moves, so her lips are ghosting over his. "Is that a gun?" she asks, and before he can reply, she laughs. "Oh thank God, it's just your penis."

Paul laughs, not sure what else to say. Emma nibbles on his jaw and he runs his hand up to unhook her bra. She's trying to undo his tie, still giggling at her own joke. "How drunk are you?" he asks, stopping his hand on the hook.

"I would say the perfect amount," she says, sitting up and waggling her eyebrow. Then she rolls her hips and causes friction between them. Paul's eyelids almost close and he rolls his head back, a small moan escaping through his lips.

"Emma, I'm serious," he says, taking her wrists in his hands, "If you're too drunk, it's cool."

She smiles at him, and leans down. She presses a kiss onto the corner of his mouth. "You're such a nice guy, Paul. I am not too drunk. I just wanna make out more."

"Okay," Paul says. He lets go of her wrists and grabs her hips instead. She's impatiently trying to undress him again, and he is losing his train of thought, too caught up in the feeling of her and her mouth and hands.

He has some trouble taking off her jeans, they are so tight they might as well be glued to her legs. Paul nearly falls off the bed as he pulls them off. Emma cackles, throwing her head back. She's almost naked now, and he can't stop staring. She's wearing standard black underwear. It's not see-through or filled with lace or anything fancy, but it's still so fucking sexy. He crawls back onto the bed and begins kissing her, moving down to cover every part of her in kisses. Emma makes these little moans, and the sound of them is making it hard for him to think properly.

"Paul," she says, panting hard. Her hands are grabbing him, trying to pull him back up. Then she kisses him and wraps her legs around his hips and he presses down on top of her. After a while, she looks up at him.

"Take off the rest of your clothes," she orders with a whisper. He does as he is told, and when he looks back up at her, she has a condom in her hand and a wicked smile on her lips.

* * *

Emma wakes up with her face pressed into someone else's arm. She lifts her head and immediately groans as her head feels like it's splitting in two. This is a bad hangover. She squints at the person next to her. _Oh, right, it's Paul_.

He's asleep, breathing deep and slow. She moves away from him and places her head on her pillow instead of his arm. She feels like crap. She went dancing with some people from class, and had too much tequila and not enough water. She thinks back on seeing Paul at the bar, and feeling the need to go talk to him. He looked like he hated it there.

Dancing with him had been nice, and she had wanted to kiss him again, just like last time. She was surprised by how much her body had responded to the kiss. Immediately she had wanted to take him home and remove his clothes. So she had. Although the clothes part had taken some time. The sex was good again, better than last time even. She smiles to herself. He is this odd combination of patient and eager, willing to listen to her and her body. It makes him pretty fucking good in bed. Especially for a drunk guy. Emma glances back at him. She can see at least one red mark on his shoulder. She isn't sure if she bit him or gave him a hickey.

Her stomach turns and she wonders if it's nausea or hunger. Sometimes it can be hard to tell after a night of drinking. She sits up and slings her legs over the edge of the bed. She needs painkillers, a shit ton of water and something salty to eat. She grabs a clean pair of underwear, putting them on with her back turned towards the bed. She finds a mostly clean t-shirt on the floor and puts it on, not bothering with a bra.

She walks into her small kitchen, pours herself a large glass of water and drinks it greedily. When her stomach doesn't complain, she decides she can handle painkillers and takes those with a new glass of water. She puts over some toast and leans against the counter.

She doesn't regret bringing Paul home, but she is a little surprised by her own actions. It's twice in two weeks, they have hooked up. It's been a while since she has hooked up with anyone, even longer since she hooked up with the same guy more than once. She rubs her temples as the toasts pop up.

Emma has just started scraping loads of butter onto the first slice when the sound of footsteps catch her attention. She looks up just as a very sleepy Paul enters. His hair is messy and he is squinting his eyes. He has pulled on boxers and a t-shirt. "I smell toast," he says.

"Yeah, I got hungry," Emma says. She puts down the knife. "Do you want some?"

Paul nods. He sits down at tiny breakfast table, looking way too long to fit into the little corner. Emma fights a smile, as she puts over more toast. Then she returns to scraping butter onto her own slices. She sits down across from him and takes a large bite. Paul sends her a soft and amused smile. He is still squinting weirdly.

"What's up? Too much light?" she asks, when she has finished chewing.

"No, I just took out my contacts last night," Paul says. His stare grows distant as he looks somewhere above her shoulder. "Wait! I might have an extra pair in my jacket." he jumps up, looking dizzy for a moment and then walks with determination out of the kitchen. Emma chuckles to herself as she continues eating. She can hear him rummage around and go into the bathroom.

He comes back, looking much more cheerful. His eyes are more normally open now. Emma remembers how he put on glasses in the morning last time. "Better?" she asks.

"Yeah, much," he says, "I can actually see you now."

"That is preferred," Emma jokes, "your toast is ready. I think I have some jam in the fridge, otherwise it's just a butterfest."

"Butter sounds good," Paul says. He looks like he is about to get up, so Emma puts down her toast, and leans over to the nearest cupboard, so she can fetch him a plate and a knife. The kitchen is so small, there is no need to get up. She slides it all across the small table and resumes eating her final piece. Her stomach isn't complaining much, which is a good sign. The painkillers are slowly working, so her head is feeling a bit more normal. She is considering making coffee, if her stomach will let her drink it.

"Why were you at a nightclub?" she asks him.

"One of my coworkers dragged me there," Paul shrugs.

"Do your coworkers always drag you out drinking, or do you sometimes volunteer?" she asks, unable to stop herself. Paul chuckles nervously.

"I'm mostly dragged," he admits, shrugging. "I prefer having beer or wine at home, maybe playing some board games."

"Sounds dull," Emma jokes. She eats the last bite and licks the melted butter off her fingers. She remembers his house and his ridiculously named cat. "Y'know, if I hadn't been living so close, we would have gone to your house again. I could have pet your cat!"

This makes a wide grin spread across his face. "I am sure Lettuce would have loved that." _What a dork._

"Do you want some coffee?" Emma asks, sending him a teasing smile.

"Yeah, thanks," he nods. She doesn't think his shoulders have relaxed once, since he woke up, but otherwise he seems at ease. She makes them two mugs of instant coffee and pours a generous amount of milk into her own. She hands Paul his coffee and he grins at the mug. It's bright green and has Tinkerbell on it. Emma's own mug is white and covered in cartoon sheep. There is one black sheep in the middle of it all. Emma loves the mug, even though she knows it's a bit too much on the nose.

Paul cradles the mug between his large hands and Emma's gaze drops there for a few seconds, while memories of him using those nice hands flash through her mind. Her face gets a little warmer, and she hopes he can't tell. For a second, she wonders what sex would be like sober with him, but she knocks the thought out of her head. "So, got any fun weekend plans?" she asks instead.

"Nurse this hangover, what some TV. Do my laundry," Paul answers.

"Sounds like a real sexy weekend," Emma snorts.

"I got that part over with last night," Paul jokes, and Emma barks out a laugh. _Yeah_ , he really is a dork. They continue talking about little non-important things, and then Paul has to go home and feed his cat. Emma is looking forward to a shower, when she's alone. He gets dressed and grabs his things, and she walks him to the door.

"Bye, Paul," she says, smiling up at him. He looks at her nervously, like he wants to kiss her. She's halfway expecting him too, when he just pets her shoulder awkwardly.

"Bye, Emma," he says, and then he walks out the door. Emma watches him leave, shaking her head slightly in disbelief. What a weird guy to have double one-night-stands with. She walks into the bathroom, and crams herself into the small shower stall. She imagines Paul squeezing himself in here and laughs. His head would hit the shower head constantly. She stands under the warm water for ages before heading back out and wrapping an old yellow towel around her. After she has dissociated in front of her shelves in the bathroom for a while, she decides she can't be bothered with lotion today. Instead she opts for her fuzzy blue bathrobe and wraps the towel around her hair, before walking into her bedroom again. She slumps down on the bed, considering taking a nap. She looks at the floor and all her scattered clothes.

After at least ten minutes, she realizes that what she is staring at, isn't her own black tie thing from Beanies, but an actual black tie. _Ah, fuck._ Paul forgot his. She should probably do something about that. She could always just bring it to work and hand it to him the next time he shows up. He hasn't been very consistent the past two weeks though.

She's also really tired right now.

She ends up taking a long nap. When she wakes up, she's hungry again and Paul's stupid tie is still on her floor. She grabs her phone and opens Facebook. First she searches for _Paul_ and then realizes that search would take forever. Instead she opens the Beanies Facebook page. Luckily, not that many people have liked the page. She scrolls down to _P_ and looks through. Yup, there is a _Paul Matthews_. She clicks the picture. That's definitely Paul. He is sitting in a park or something, smiling wide to the camera. Emma sends him a quick message. _yo you forgot your tie._

Later, a response checks in. First a gif of Ryan Reynolds who facepalms. Then he types: _Dammit! Can I stop by and pick it up?_ Emma snorts as she writes the response. _I am at Beanies tomorrow. morning shift._

 _Perfect. Morning coffee and my tie._ Then a gif of a cat with the word _purrfect._ Emma laughs.

* * *

Paul wears the tie the next two workdays. He knows it's dumb, but it reminds him of Emma. He'll touch it during the day and remember how she kissed him on the dance-floor. He can't believe his drunk self had sex with her _again_. This time they even had a lovely morning together! He'll never tell anyone about how much he stared at the mark on his shoulder during the weekend.

On Monday Melissa had cornered him and tried to get out of him what happened. When he had said, he bumped into the girl again, she had hooted and hit his arm a lot harder than necessary. She had tried to get more details out of him, but he didn't tell her much else. He still doesn't know what is going on with him and Emma.

He has a feeling it isn't over, whatever it is they are doing. But that might just be his hopes and dreams talking. Emma served him a black coffee Sunday morning and casually slid the tie across the counter when no one else was looking. Then she winked inconspicuously at him and his stomach did a weird drop as he pushed the tie into his pocket.

Nothing else happens though. She treats him normally at Beanies the following two weeks and he fights the urge to write her on Facebook again. Whatever they are doing, he doesn't think it's his place to make the next move.

He says yes to drinking with Ted and Bill again, but Emma doesn't show up at the bar, and Ted tries relentlessly to get him to flirt, so he goes home early. Instead he watches a movie and cuddles Lettuce. She purrs loudly and rubs her head on his hand whenever he stops petting her. He thinks back on the way he feels whenever Emma looks up at him at Beanies. He sighs.

He shouldn't hope for more. She doesn't date and she clearly only hooks up with him, when she's drunk and he is there. The thought makes him so sad, it feels like something heavy is on his chest. He leans down and kisses Lettuce's head. He needs to stop moping over this girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the summary says they have an arrangement - we'll get there! 
> 
> I hope y'all liked this. It's really fun to write. THANKS FOR READING!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the sweet comments and the kudos. You are so nice!

Emma wakes up in a good mood. It's Saturday and she has spent the past two weeks focusing on a big assignment for class. She finally turned it in yesterday, and today she has plans with her nephew. They are just going to the movies and having an ice cream or hot chocolate after, depending on the weather. She doesn't get much time alone with him, so this is a big deal for her.

She gets dressed in her high-waisted blue jeans, a loose t-shirt and her black leather jacket. Tom always complains that she's late, so for once she leaves much earlier than needed. She parks outside Tom's house and walks up the garden path, humming something to herself. She knocks on the door. Tom opens and his eyes go big with surprise, before dropping.

"Emma, you're early," he says, swallowing, " I forgot to call you. Tim is coming down with something, probably just a cold, but he should stay at home, so it doesn't get worse."

It's like a punch to the gut. Emma stares at him, blinking several times as she takes in the information. " _Oh_ ," she finally gets out.

"Hopefully you can do it soon," Tom says. He doesn't look like he feels too bad. Emma can feel her temper flare.

" _Yes_ ," she says through her teeth. Every cell in her body is telling her to yell at Tom. "It would be.. _nice_.. with a warning next time." she gets out.

"Right," Tom nods, "my bad."

" _Mhmmm_ ," she says, curling her hand behind her, feeling her nails press into her palm.

"Well," Tom says, "have a nice weekend." He begins to close the door. _What? That's it?_

"Tell him to feel better!" Emma yells, just as the door shuts. _Have a nice weekend?!_ As if the asshole hadn't just _fucking ruined the nice part of her weekend!?!_

Emma stomps towards her car, shaking with rage. She drives off, but has to pull over on the next road. She parks the car and lets out a loud scream. She slaps her palm against the side of the steering wheel four times. Tears sting her eyes.

She had been so fucking excited! 

She wipes the tears and takes a deep breath. Right. Maybe next weekend. She looks at her phone, considering texting Tom right away and asking. There is a text from Nora. _Two people called in sick. Can you work today_?

Emma mostly wants to tell Nora to go fuck herself and stop letting Zoey hire theatre kids, but her day _is_ suddenly free and she could use the money. She isn't in the fucking mood for customers though. She screams again and then she types _yes._

* * *

Paul spends his day cleaning his kitchen, bathrooms and vacuuming the whole house. Lettuce hides under his bed, because she hates the noise of the vacuum machine. "Y'know it's your own fault," Paul tells her, as he sits on his knees, and tries to get her out from under the bed, so he can vacuum his bedroom without scaring her even more. "It's all of your hair I have to get rid of."

Lettuce isn't impressed with his argumentation and crawls further away from him. Paul sighs. He considers tempting her with shrimp or some of the fancy cat food, but he knows she'll end up expecting that every time he vacuums. He sits back up and runs a hand through his hair. "Lettuce," he says in a serious tone, "I'm gonna vacuum in here now. If you don't get out, you will be even more scared."

Of course that doesn't work either.

He gets up and starts the machine. He has left the door open and the moment he nears the bed, Lettuce shoots out, running away. Paul watches her go, knowing she'll be upset with him for the rest of the day. _There goes my evening cuddles_ , he thinks to himself. He focuses on the meditative movement of back and forth as he makes his way through the room. He likes cleaning up. It's easy, he can concentrate on the task ahead and he always feels better after.

When he is done, it's late afternoon, so he changes to a clean t-shirt and heads downstairs. He can't see Lettuce anywhere, so she's probably hiding outside. He shrugs to himself. His silly cat should really stop getting offended every time he cleans up. He decides he has earned a beer after the hard work, and he picks one from the fridge. He sips from it as he walks into the living room and slumps down on the couch. He looks at his phone. Alice has placed a new word in their _words with friends_ game. _Dammit_ , it's a good one. She's kicking his ass.

He sips his beer and stares at his letters, while he tries to come up with a word.

* * *

Emma rolls her beer bottle between her hands. She's sitting alone next to a small table in the sleaziest bar in Hatchetfield. She got off work about half a beer ago, and she's still in a terrible mood. The disappointment over not seeing Tim _and_ anger for not being told is still stewing inside her. The fact that Tom forgot to call her just proves they haven't made much progress in the past year since she came back.

She should have just gone to the fucking wedding. Plastered on a fake smile and ignored her parents and been there for Jane just a little. Maybe things would be better if Tom had met her then at least. She bites her lip. Thinking about Jane still hurts so fucking bad. Not because they were close, but because now they'll never be.

Emma gulps down beer and sighs. Work had sucked, of course. The customers had been impatient and she had been extra zesty. She just wants to forget today. Maybe distract herself from all her thoughts? She can't go to the movies, because that will just remind her of what today should have been. Maybe she should just head home and eat takeaway and go to bed? She could also head out somewhere and get absolutely drunk. She considers writing someone from class to see what they are up to. She opens her phone to write one of them, and when she scrolls down, she spots the name _Paul Matthews_. A distraction, huh? Her thumb hovers over his name on the screen.

* * *

Paul has played a word and flipped through the channels twice. He should probably order himself some food or heat up one of those frozen lasagnas he bought on sale last week. His beer is almost empty. His phone _dings_.

 _That was fast, Alice_ , he thinks as he picks up the phone. It's not Alice adding a new word though, it's a message. From Emma. Paul sits up abruptly, clicking it. _you doing anything fun tonight?_

He runs a hand through his hair and exhales loudly. Okay. Okay. She wrote him. Okay. No need to panic. What should he respond? He swallows. He types out _nope, just sitting at home._ Then he frowns and deletes it again. That made him sound lame. He looks up at his bookcase and thinks. Okay. He could lie? Say he is with friends. _What if she wants to hang out?_ He shakes his head. Okay. He can do this. He looks down again. _Not much, no. You?_ Then he nods to himself and sends it. He looks at the message. Okay.

He picks up the beer and empties it, ignoring the way his hand shakes slightly. The response is fast. _I just got off work._ He stares at the message, not at all sure what to respond. Should he ask her if she wants to come over? Why was she writing him? She types more, so he waits. _Can I come over? I can bring food._

He nearly drops the phone, too eager as he tries to respond. _Yeah of course!_ He still has no idea why she is reaching out, but his heart is pounding. Emma is coming over!?

_Chinese food?_ she asks, so he sends her a gif of Chris Traeger giving a thumbs up and a big smile. Her response is just a laughing emoji. He wonders when she'll be here.

He paces around the living room nervously, fidgeting with his hands. Okay. She's on her way over. She asked to come over. Should he put on a nicer shirt? No. That would be weird. He fluffs one of his pillows and folds the blanket again. Maybe he should see if he has a candle somewhere? He thinks maybe Charlotte gave him some once.

He stops himself. He doesn't know _what_ Emma wants, and acting like it's a date could backfire. He doesn't want to assume things. He carries the empty beer bottle into the kitchen. He takes a deep breath and takes a tour around the house, just to be sure he hasn't left dirty laundry anywhere. When he walks into his bedroom, he remembers that he wanted to change his sheets earlier, but then he got distracted by Lettuce hiding under the bed. Okay. He can do that. It's not like he expects anything to happen with Emma. This was the plan all along.

He has just made the bed when he hears the doorbell ring. That was fast. He grabs the dirty sheets and throws them in the hamper, before running down the stairs. He stops in front of the door and runs a hand through his hair before grabbing the handle. _Okay Paul, be cool._

He opens the door, getting hit by the cool evening air and nearly drops his jaw at the sight of her. Emma is grinning up at him, holding a bag of takeaway. " _Hi_ ," he says, stepping so he can let her in. She's not wearing the uniform, instead she's dressed in high-waisted jeans that hug her curves perfectly. Her hair is pulled into a ponytail under her left ear.

"Hey," she says, stepping inside, "I am very proud of myself for finding your house on my own. I thought I got lost, but then I saw the Church," she continues talking, kicking off her shoes and walking down the hall. Paul follows her. Emma opens one of his doors, peeking inside. "Oh damn, you have a dining room. Fancy." she looks over her shoulder, sending him a grin, and Paul feels like someone just kicked his heart.

"Yeah," he says, "I also have a living room. _And_ two bathrooms."

Emma fake-gasps. "No way! You must be _rich_." They both chuckle as he reaches her. "Last time I didn't get to see as much of your house," she says casually. Paul swallows.

"No, you didn't seem like you wanted a house tour," he says.

"I didn't hear you offering," Emma replies. Her eyes sparkle playfully. She's enjoying this.

"Fair point," he agrees.

"I do seem to remember having other things on my mind," she says, and looks him up and down. Paul blushes and clears his throat.

"That was my impression," he says, feeling very confused about the whole situation. "So, where do you wanna eat?"

"I vote couch," Emma says, "I had a long day at work and I wanna slouch in my seat."

"Great," Paul says. He leads her into the living room. Emma places the food on the coffee table and dramatically flops onto the couch. Paul can't help the smile that appears on his face. He sits down next to her, just as she starts fishing things out of the bag. They eat with chopsticks, not talking much. Paul can't stop glancing at her as she eats. He still has no idea what is going on, but he rolls with it as best as he can.

* * *

Emma feels a little wired, even though she only had the one beer. Her uniform is in her car, she changed back after work, and now she's glad she did. Although she suspects Paul likes the uniform. She is really here, at his house, looking for a distraction. Preferably a sexy distraction. She's still a little surprised by her own actions, but all she wants is to forget the day and have some fun! Paul eats quietly, not talking much. Emma removes her jacket, leaving it behind her.

She almost done eating, so she looks at him. He is wearing a dark grey t-shirt and it looks good on him. His eyes are remarkably blue and his shoulders fill out the shirt well. If she can get him involved, he'll be a good distraction. He looks up at her and she smiles. "Thanks for letting me come over," she says, putting down her box of food.

"Thanks for dinner," Paul replies, lifting the box a little.

"It's no big," she shrugs, picking up one last bit of chicken and eating it. "I had a pretty crappy day, so I am glad I could invite myself over."

"Oh, why?" he asks, putting down his box. He leans back in the couch and watches her.

"Just a last minute shift at work," she says, not wanting to get into the whole Tim thing. "It was a drag."

"I'm sorry," he says earnestly.

"Yeah well," she shrugs, "that's what I get for working at a coffee shop. Everyone is _in_ caffeine withdrawal when they show up. It's like a recipe for grumpy customers."

This makes him laugh. She smiles to herself as she wonders how she is going to approach this. She isn't sure if she should be upfront about what she wants first or if she should just kiss him and explain later. He has to be wondering why she is here. His arm next to hers and she's just about to run her fingers along it, when he sits up. "Are you done? Cuz then I'll put it away."

" _Hmmm_." she wiggles her head a little as she thinks. She looks at his food, grabs her chopsticks and steal a mushroom from him. "Now I'm done," she grins.

"You sure?" he smiles, "there is a bit of carrot as well."

She pretends to think it over and then she just pokes out her tongue at him. He grabs most of the food, but since he can't carry it all, she picks up the last box and follows him. His kitchen is nice. She immediately feels incredibly envious. The food she could make in here! Paul puts things away, so she throws out the chopsticks and napkins. She spots an empty beer bottle on the counter. _Nice._ "Can I have some water?" she asks. Paul grabs a glass from one of his cabinets and walks over to the sink. She slides in closer when he is filling the glass, and looks up at him.

"What?" he asks. She can see his Adam's apple move as he swallows.

"Nothing," Emma says, sending him a small smile. He hands her the glass silently and she takes it, making sure her fingers brush against his. He blinks. _Cute_. She takes a slow sip of water, not breaking the eye contact. She hands it back to him. "Do you want any?"

He takes the glass and sips from it, closing his eyes. She steps even closer, so they are practically touching.

* * *

Paul has spent the past hour feeling incredibly confused, but now, as she doesn't break eye contact when she drinks water, he is getting more and more convinced that she is making a move on him. He has been hoping and dreading it at the same time. He closes his eyes as he sips the water, trying to decide what to do. He feels her step closer. Her small frame is radiating heat against him, and he suddenly knows he can't resist her. He'll do whatever she wants.

He opens his eyes and hands her the glass again, waiting for her to do what she came to do. Emma puts the glass on the counter and sends him this small, sexy smile that makes his knees weak. "So, what do you say we break this sexual tension with some actual sex?" she asks.

He stares at her for a moment as her words sink in. She's so direct. He exhales, unable to form a response. Okay. He moves forward and kisses her. She makes a little noise in surprise, but her arms wrap around him immediately, and she pulls herself closer. He can taste a bit of garlic from her dinner and her lips are wet from the water, but it's still so wonderful to kiss her again. She seems impatient, deepening the kiss immediately and running her hands up and down his back. He realizes this is their first time kissing sober and the thought makes his head swim. He'll be able to remember this fully tomorrow! His hands trail down her back and side, landing on her hips. Emma licks along his bottom lip and he opens his mouth.

He moves his hand further down, lifting up her leg by holding the back of her thigh. Emma pulls back, looking at him for a moment, before wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting herself up. Paul catches her other leg and moves her, so he can place her on the kitchen counter. Emma wraps her legs around his hips and holds onto him.

They are both panting as they kiss. Paul thinks about his bed upstairs and wonders if there is any chance he can carry her up there. Emma moans and tugs at his hair. He probably can't. Even though it would have been a sexy move to pull. He leans in closer, pushing Emma backwards. Something is knocked over and she makes a yelping noise.

"What?" Paul looks at her. She shoves him away and jumps down. _Ah fuck_ , the glass. There is water all over the counter now, dripping down the cabinet and onto the floor. How much was even left in the glass? He quickly wipes it up with a cloth, kneeling down to get the water on the floor.

"If you want me to take off my clothes, you can just ask," Emma teases, "you don't have to pour water on me."

"Are we even sure it was _me_ who knocked it over?" Paul asks. He can't help but grin. Emma seems like she'll give everyone shit whenever. He likes that.

"It definitely was," Emma says, and before he can answer, she pulls her t-shirt over her head. Paul's brain stops working as he watches her. Her bra is white today and there is a bit of lace along the edge, all the way around her. She opens her jeans, but when she sees him sitting there staring, she shakes her head and moves down and kisses him hungrily. Unfortunately he is knocked off balance and they tumble to the floor. Emma laughs as she lands on top of him.

"Are we -" he begins, but she's kissing him again. Her hands are everywhere, and based on the urgency she's expressing, they aren't going to get up any time soon. As they roll around on the floor, kissing and touching each other, Paul thinks to himself g _ood thing I cleaned the kitchen floor today._

* * *

Emma lies on her back, her naked body barely covered by tangled sheets. Paul is next to her on the bed, catching his breath, just as naked. It's Sunday morning and they've just completed round three. She's exhausted and sweaty, and her mind has been blissfully unable to form coherent thoughts for a long time now. They slept between round two and three, but probably not as much as she needed.

"Wow," Paul says, still sounding a little out of breath. Emma grins and looks over at him.

" _Mhmm_ ," she says, nodding. "You're pretty good at this."

Paul blushes, which is impressive since he was already a little red-cheeked before. "I am?" he asks and Emma rolls her eyes. She pushes herself closer to him and grabs his jaw. She kisses him again.

"Very _good_ ," she says against his lips. He makes a noise, like he is flattered but not convinced. "Seriously, you'd be surprised how many guys don't pay attention or care about what the girl likes. Hell, some guys won't even go down on you."

He frowns at her in disbelief. "Really?"

"Yup," Emma says. Paul looks completely appalled. It's cute. She lies back down, looking up at the ceiling. Paul really _is_ good at this and it was the perfect distraction. She feels much better. She has missed having sex and all these times with him have been truly awesome. She looks over at him. He smiles at her. He is such a sweet and normal guy. He has a normal job, a house and a cat. A really sweet cat with a silly ass name. He is funny too, which she likes.

She's actually considering asking him if he would like to do this more regularly. He seems like the perfect guy to have this kind of no-strings thing with, since she isn't going to be falling for him and his ironed shirts. "Paul," she says, "I have an idea."

"Yeah?"

"Well, since we're so good at this, I was thinking we could make an arrangement of some kind," she smiles at him and rolls onto her shoulder, so she can look at him.

"Arrangement?" he looks confused.

"Like, we are both out drinking one Friday, I text you, we go home and we have sex," she explains, "or you have a long day at work on a Wednesday, text me and we have sex."

"Oh," Paul narrows his eyes.

"The circumstances aren't important, as long as we end up banging," she grins. He chuckles a little.

"Just sex, no... no strings?" he asks.

"None whatsoever," Emma says reassuringly, "aside from the fact that I'd like to know if you have unprotected sex with other people, y'know for precautions."

"Of course," he nods. He has a strange expression on his face. He rolls backwards for a moment and returns with his glasses. He puts them on and smiles at her. "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can do that."

"Sweet!" Emma says and lifts her hand for a high-five. Paul smiles as he smacks his palm against hers.

"Are you hungry?" he asks. The question makes her stomach wake up.

"Yes! Oh my God," she says, "I could eat a whole cow."

This makes him laugh as he sits up. "I don't have a cow, but there are leftovers or I can make eggs."

"Eggs would be good, my dude," Emma says, stretching out in his comfortable bed. She sees his gaze linger on her exposed skin.

"I'm gonna shower first," Paul says. He gets up and walks naked to the bathroom. Emma watches him go, enjoying the view. He has a nice ass and good legs. She picked a good one to sleep with. This is going to be so much fun!

* * *

Paul is stirring the scrambled eggs, while his coffee machine bubbles behind him. He is looking forward to some coffee, hoping it will clear his head. He hasn't slept much. Even when they stopped having sex for the night, he couldn't fall asleep. She was sleeping next to him, making him feel awake just by her presence. Not long after they woke up, she had moved closer and began kissing him again.

He can hear her come down the stairs and his pulse quickens. His eyes nearly roll out of his head as she waltzes in, wearing nothing but one of his shirts for work. Her hair is still loose and it's a little messy from their night tangled up together. She is so fucking beautiful, he can't speak for a second. He gets to see her like this, in the morning, hardly dressed and hair down. He feels lucky.

He knows that's why he agreed to the arrangement. He shouldn't have, because this is a recipe for heartbreak. He is going to end up a complete mess, when she moves on. He knows this and yet he couldn't do anything but say yes. He never does anything risky or out of his routine. People are always telling him to live a little, maybe this is what they mean.

"Smells good - is the coffee ready?" she asks, brushing past him. He can hear her search for mugs in the cupboard.

"Yep, I think so," he says. He hears her move around and pour some coffee. She stops next to him, drinking out of one mug and handing him another. She has clearly looked through all the cups, because she is handing him his college mug and she is holding his Snoopy one. Both of them were definitely in the back of the cupboard, behind all his matching blue ones.

He accepts the coffee and sips it. Then he turns off the stove. They help each other set his breakfast table and then they sit down. Emma shoves eggs in her mouth with determination, while Paul eats his portion quietly. He has made a big pan of eggs, so Emma helps herself to another serving before he is halfway through his. "Told ya I'm hungry," she says when she catches him look.

"I'm glad you like it," he says, "it's not my specialty."

"Food is food," Emma shrugs and sips coffee. She hasn't buttoned the shirt much, so when she leans over, he gets a pretty good view. It makes him blush a little, even though he just saw her naked.

"So what are your plans today?" he asks, putting down his fork.

"I have to study," she says with a sigh. She gets out of the seat walks over to the cupboards. She has to stretch a little to reach a glass and Paul enjoys the view of the shirt lifting up and exposing more thigh and just a little bit of butt. If they hadn't had loads of sex already, he would be in trouble now. Emma fills the glass with water and drinks it all. She fills it again, just as Lettuce walks in, walking over to her bowl before meowing. "Hey Lettuce," Emma coos. The cat walks over and brushes herself against Emma's ankles. Paul smiles at the sight. Emma leans down and pets her. This means Lettuce follows her back to her chair and bumps her face against her leg, clearly wanting more pets. Emma laughs softly and the sounds makes tingles run down his back.

She looks up at him and smiles. It makes him lose his breath.

What has he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR READING! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! And if you see a typo or something, because I can always get better at English!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 things. 1. A bit of sad Emma and Jane incoming. 2. Fuck Sam. 3 I love Paul, Bill and Alice being a family.

The next week passes in a blur of work and class and assignments and suddenly it's Friday night and Emma and Zoey have the closing shift. Today had been an okay day, until Emma has to sing for a customer, because Zoey is taking a break. Nora is still up in her shit about work and doing what she's told, so she complies and sings slightly off-key until the guy grimaces and mutter _jesus_.

"Look, pal, you tipped me _one_ dollar," Emma says, "what did you expect? Celine fucking Dion?"

"That was less than a dollar's worth," the guy snorts.

" _Well_ ," Emma replies sharply, "I have to split the tip with the others."

"This place is overprized bullshit," he says. He grabs his weirdly complicated frappé, throws a few bills and what Emma assumes is every bit of loose change he has ever found in his couch onto the table. He leaves, probably knowing full well he'll be long gone, before she has counted every quarter.

"Then don't fucking come back, asshole!" she yells after him.

"What happened?"

Emma nearly jumps in surprise, but it's just Zoey. "Some asshole tipped me one dollar, insisted on a song, and then decided to be a shitty version of Simon Cowell and review the performance."

"I've heard you sing properly," Zoey says, walking over and spraying whipped cream into her own mug of coffee, "if you made an effort, they'd like it."

"You're not helping," Emma grumbles as she finishes counting the money. He was a few cents over the prize, so she puts those in the tip jar.

"Sure I am," Zoey chirps. She's so fucking annoying sometimes. They deal with the last few caffeine-needing assholes and then they close up shop. Zoey grabs several pastries and shoves them into her purse. When she catches Emma looking, she shrugs. "We can't serve these tomorrow. They are old. Plus, Sam likes them."

"He's that guy you've been seeing?" Emma asks, putting on her jacket.

"Seeing... banging," Zoey grins, "His uniform is fucking sexy."

"Right," Emma says, as they walk out and lock the place.

"He's picking me up soon," Zoey says, "we're going to a musical at the Starlight."

"Have fun," Emma says, not really meaning it.

"Otherwise we should have gone out for drinks again," Zoey says with a smile. "Next time?"

"Oh, yeah," Emma responds, doing finger guns. _What?_ She spots a cop guy coming towards them.

"Hey," he says, immediately placing a hand in Zoey's back pocket, "who's your friend? Is she joining us?" he sends Emma a lewd look.

"Oh, hard pass," Emma says, crossing her arms, just as Zoey hisses.

"Sam!"

"I'm just kidding, babe," he says and then he winks at Emma. She curls her hands into fists, about to tell this creep exactly what's what, when Zoey smiles and pushes Sam down the street.

"Bye Emma!" she coos.

Emma watches them leave. Okay, Zoey is sort of terrible in a lot of ways, but that guy is _gross as fuck._ Zoey deserves better. Emma exhales through her nose and heads towards her car. She has planned to go the cemetery today, but now she's not so sure. She knows Tom and Tim go there once a week to leave flowers. She is still struggling with going once a month. It's been a while since last time.

When she's in the car, she decides to go. She doesn't have to stay long, just a little while. The drive there isn't long, so she's there too soon. She parks near the cemetery and gets out. _Oh shit_ , she forgot to bring something. She supposes she can do that next time Right? She walks through the dimly lit cemetery. Before she reaches Jane, she stops by her parents' graves.

"Hi mom," she mumbles, shoving her hands in her pockets. She rarely misses her parents. She has only brought them flowers once. They could have cared more about her, if they had wanted her to properly mourn them. "Hope you are ok. Not giving dad to much of a hard time. Dad, I hope they serve you decent food wherever you are." She pushes some gravel around with her foot. It feels silly to talk to them like this. _Whatever._

She walks on, reaching Jane's grave. She crouches down and sniffles as the cold evening air envelopes her. The two lanterns Tom has placed there aren't lit, so Emma fishes through her purse. She takes out her old lighter and lights the candles inside the lanterns. She can see a new bouquet of flowers, so they have already been here this week. The scent of the little lavender bush they have planted there hits her nose. The lights from the flames dances across the gravestone, lighting up the name.

_Jane Silvia Perkins._

Emma feels a lump in her throat.

"Hey Janey," she says, standing up again, "Never forgiving you for getting the good middle name." It's quiet for a long moment, as she tries to think of something to say. Is there really anything she _can_ say?

"I'm sorry I'm not here more. I want to, I just... Tom and Tim go together, and-" she pauses, fighting a few tears, "- it's hard going here alone-"

She falls silent, not sure how to continue. The flames moves, making it look like there are ripples across the stone.

" _Shit_. Um, Jane? Can you, like, tell your husband to give me a shot? I'm here, and I'm trying and-" she sighs, "sorry. It's my own fault. I'm - I'm gonna go again, okay? I'll come back soon!"

After one last long look at the stone, she turns around and leaves. _Nice one, Emma_ , she says to herself, _couldn't even stay here more than five minutes._ She has her hands back in her pocket and she's trying her best to keep from running. Her heart is in her throat. _Fuck._ This was a disaster. It's not like visiting a grave will absolve all her guilt for the past decade, but every time she gets here, she realizes that's exactly what she has been hoping for. Again.

She sits in her car, leaning against the headrest, with her eyes closed, as a few tears escape down her cheeks. She hates feeling like this. She wants to fix things, but she doesn't know how. Emma opens her eyes and wipes her cheeks. She bites her lip. There is nothing she can do about it now. She'll be better next time.

Tonight she just needs to get her mind off things.

She checks herself in the mirror and luckily her makeup hasn't been destroyed by the few tears. She has to come up with something to do for the rest of the night. One corner of her mouth curls up, when she remembers Paul and their arrangement. This is exactly what she made the arrangement for! She opens their message thread and asks him what he's up to. She starts the car just as he replies that he just finished having a beer after work with a friend, but he'll be home soon.

This is perfect. The absolute right distraction. Just mindless sex until she forgets everything.

She parks in front of his driveway and hops out. The door is unlocked, so she lets herself in. Lettuce is sitting on the stairs, but she jumps down and rubs herself against Emma's leg. "Hey there kitty," Emma says, kneeling down and running her hand down Lettuce's back. She responds with a deep purr, so Emma repeats the motion a few times. When she looks up, Paul is standing in the doorway and watching them. He's smiling softly.

"Hi," Emma grins and stands up. Lettuce follows her as she walks towards Paul.

"Hey," Paul says, shoving his hands in his pockets. They walk over to the couch. Emma unties the bow from her uniform and places it on the coffee table. Just being here is putting her mind at ease. Maybe it's because she knows what's about to happen? Paul is sitting down, looking up at her expectantly. "Tough day?" he asks.

"Kinda, some guy judged my singing. He was a massive asshole." she answers, again leaving out the biggest reason her day sucked, "you?"

"It was okay. Had a beer with a coworker after, which was nice." He is still looking at her, as she stands there in front of him. Emma grins, stepping close, so their legs are touching and she's looming above him. She grabs the top button of her shirt and opens it.

"That's enough talking for now, don't you think?" she asks, opening the next one. Paul lets out a nervous little laugh and then his hands land on her wrists, moving her hands away. He sits up straight, and he begins to slowly open her shirt, still looking at her. Then, once her bra is visible, he leans in and begins trailing kisses down along with each opened button. Emma sighs, dipping her head backwards and closing her eyes. She lets the feeling of his lips and breath erase her day from her mind.

When the shirt is open, and she has let it fall to the floor, she lifts her head again and places her hands on Paul's shoulders, steadying herself as she straddles his thighs. Then she kisses him, enjoying the satisfied noise he makes.

Yup, this was just what she needed.

* * *

It's 7 o'clock Thursday night, and Paul is sitting on the couch in Bill's living room. Alice is sitting across from him, knitting a hat for Deb. Bill is cooking them dinner, and he ended up shooing them both out of the kitchen, since neither of them were any help.

"What have you been up to since last I saw you?" Alice asks, " - and don't say watching _True Crime_! You must have done more than that!"

Paul sends her a look before laughing. She teases him too much, not like when she was younger and thought he was cool. Answering her question is hard. Since last time, he has had drunken sex with Emma twice and then started a weird no-strings thing with her. "Not much, you know me. Same old," he lies. Alice rolls her eyes.

"I'm gonna have to download Tinder to your phone," she says and chuckles. Their cat Barb walks through the room and meows. Paul smiles. She's Lettuce's mom and she's a good cat.

"Please don't," he says, "I don't want a tinder."

"I know," Alice says with a gentle smile, "it's just dad says you were a bit bummed out. Pining after that barista again?"

Paul splutters "What - what barista? - _pffh -_ your dad doesn't even - what?"

Alice sends him a pitying smile, leaning forward to pat his knee in comfort. "Sorry. It's okay."

The doorbell rings and Alice jumps up nervously. She packs the knitting away in a rush and then starts readjusting her hair. Paul stands up and puts his hand on her shoulder. "You look nice, kid."

"Thanks," Alice smiles, a little embarrassed. Her hair is cascading down over her pink cardigan and she has put on a bit of makeup. She runs to the door and Paul follows. Both Bill and Alice had asked if he could be here when Deb came over for dinner. Paul is all for trying to help Deb and Bill get along.

Plus, Bill is a good cook.

Deb walks in, stopping to press a kiss against Alice's cheek. She's dressed in black jeans and a short-sleeved checkered button-up. She takes off her hat, revealing a short and slightly messy bob. She smiles when she sees Paul. "Hello," she says, holding out her hand, "I'm Deb."

"Paul," he says as he shakes her hand, "I'm Alice's old babysitter slash bonus uncle. It's nice to meet you."

Alice rolls her eyes. "He didn't babysit me when I was, like, little. He just watched me a few times when I was 12."

"Oh, and here I thought you had funny toddler stories," Deb jokes.

"Sorry to disappoint," Paul grins, "I got some fun tween stories. Like insisting on watching _Buffy the vampire slayer_ and-" he's cut off by Alice covering his mouth with her hand.

" _Thanks,_ Paul," she says through her teeth, before letting go of him. Deb gives him a secretive look, saying _we'll talk later_. Paul gives her a small nod.

"Aww, babe," Deb laughs, "did you have a baby gay crush on Willow? Because _same_."

"No," Alice says defiantly, crossing her arms.

"It was Faith," Paul says and Alice elbows him in the ribs. Hard. " _Ow_!"

Bill appears in the door, wearing his apron with ducks on it. "Hello Deb," he says.

"Hello sir," Deb says, "it smells great." She's right, a delicious scent is spreading from the kitchen.

"Thank you," Bill nods, "it's a new recipe." He makes it sound like it's Deb's fault and that's when Paul remembers she's vegan.

"Exciting," Deb says. She and Bill look at each other for a moment, and then Alice elbows Paul again. She hits the same spot as before.

" _Ow!_ Right," he says, correcting himself. "So, Deb, tell me about yourself."

"I am gonna be a senior after summer, like Alice. I'm really into music, and I take AP Chemistry, cuz that's cool as shit - sorry. I like playing video games and I play bass," she explains as they walk back into the living room.

"Bass, huh? That is cool," he says, "do you play in a band?"

"Nah, I used to but we disagreed on some stuff," she shrugs, "now I just bother this one." She pokes Alice's side, before taking her hand. They are so cute together. Paul has no idea why Bill doesn't like Deb. They sit down and wait for about 20 minutes for the food to be finished. At some point Alice gets up to set the table, and Paul talks with Deb on his own. She's funny. She seems very politically active and she keeps accidentally swearing and then apologizing. Paul doesn't comment on it. They discuss video games and college choices until Alice declares it's dinner time.

They all sit around the table and take in what Bill has made them. "It's a vegan lasagna, I hope it turned out okay. Then we have a salad and some baked tomatoes with basil on them. Normally there is cheese as well, but I went with just basil and garlic," Bill presents.

"It looks great!" Deb says.

"Yeah, Dad," Alice says. She pats Bill's arm and he sends her a smile full of affection. Bill loves his daughter more than anything else. No one will ever be good enough for Alice, so that's probably why he doesn't like Deb. Paul can't help worry about how his friend will handle it, when she leaves for college.

The lasagna is very delicious. Paul does his best to make the conversation flow, asking them all questions and trying to get Bill to help him tell a funny story about Ted and an accidental call on speakerphone. Bill and Alice are sort of his family. He doesn't see his actual family much. He has an older sister living in Pinebrook with her husband and kid, but the rest of them have all moved away from Hatchetfield. His parents never cared much for their middle child. His brother was a basketball star and his sister was doing competitive volleyball. Paul was always the odd one out, being good at math and statistics, but not genius-level good. Not enough for his parents to brag about it.

He appreciates having Bill and Alice in his life, who seem to like him as he is. They tease him about dating and not going out, but never in a way where he feels like he is letting them down. Bill doesn't get out much either. At least his mom has stopped asking about his dating life now.

Bill has finally started telling the story about Ted, making a big deal out of it. Alice sends Paul a thankful smile. She feels more like his niece than his actual nieces do. She's also his friend, in a way. Deb nearly spits out water as she laughs at the story and Paul mentally pats himself on the back for making Bill tell it. It seems like the two of them are having a good moment over it.

Paul and Deb insist on cleaning up after the meal. Deb clears the table and Paul seizes the opportunity to check his phone. There are no messages from Emma.

It's been over two weeks since last time they met up, and there has been complete radio silence. He isn't sure what that means, whether they are still going with this thing. He doesn't want to write her himself, since their rendezvous' seem to me mostly her idea. He misses her though. Misses hearing her laugh and the way her eyes grow shiny and playful when she's about to suggest getting naked.

The last few times he has seen her at Beanies, she has either been busy with customers or picking up used mugs from the tables, so he hasn't had time to talk to her. He has no idea how, but he and Ted have hit rush hour at Beanies every day that week.

He thinks about it as he rinses the dishes. Maybe a pause is to be considered normal? It's not like they made a schedule. He puts the dishes in the dishwasher. He will just wait and see, she'll write him if she wants to see him again. He hopes she does. Paul sighs. This whole thing seemed like a bad idea when he agreed to it, but now he is sad there isn't more.

Alice joins him, bumping her hip against his before beginning to pack away the leftovers in little boxes. "It's going well, although I had to leave them alone now."

"It is. Hopefully your dad won't ask her about her smoking habits," Paul jokes and Alice sends him a warning look.

" _Don't_ even joke about that," she says, clearly horrified at the idea. She puts the kettle over for tea. Paul finishes cleaning and they carry tea, cups and a box of vegan cookies Alice has bought into the living room. Deb and Bill seem okay, having found a common ground in discussing _Mamma Mia_ and the lack of Meryl Streep in the sequel.

"As a proud lesbian, I can't condone the lack of Meryl," Deb says, "I appreciate Cher, but at what cost?"

"As a fan of musicals, I agree," Bill says, giving her an approving nod.

"Also what is the deal with Colin Firth being the only one without a love interest in the end?" Alice chimes in, as they set things down on the coffee table. "They fly in a random brother for Tanya, but Harry can't get a hot man? Or the passport guy? It's homophobia at its finest!"

Deb nods and lifts her hand for a silent fist-bump, which Alice returns. Bill nods along. "That movie has many flaws. However, they used both _Fernando_ and _Knowing, Me Knowing You_ , so I was happy."

"Word," Alice says, sitting down next to Deb. Paul takes a seat in the chair next to Bill.

"Also Lily James barefoot on a boat, flirting and dancing? Thank you Lesbian Gods," Deb jokes, "it's really an underappreciated song too. What do you think, Paul?"

Alice and Bill both laugh. "Paul doesn't like musicals," Alice explains. Deb gives him a disapproving look.

"What?"

"Watching people sing and dance makes me very uncomfortable," Paul says, trying to justify it.

"I once made him sit through two episodes of _glee_ ," Alice says, pouring tea for them all, "he still hasn't forgiven me."

"Nope, that was an actual nightmare," Paul says. The others laugh. They continue to talk about musicals and Paul listens, sipping his tea and nibbling on a cookie. At some point Deb wraps her arm around Alice's shoulder, and Paul can see how Alice slowly melts into her side. It's cute. They are such a good couple.

He feels his phone buzz and takes it out of his pocket. It's a message from Emma. His heart skips a beat when he opens it. It's a picture of a open bottle of Jack Daniels and an almost empty glass. The text acroos the picture says _you better come over so im not drinking alone._

"Why are you blushing?" Alice asks. When he looks up, they are all looking at him, so he puts the phone away again.

"I'm not," he lies. Alice gives him a disbelieving look. "I'm just warm from the tea."

She still isn't convinced, but she seems to let it go for now. They continue talking for a while. Paul feels another message check in. He looks at it. This time it's a picture of the foot of her bed, with a blue lace bra lying across it. Paul holds back a surprised noise, disguising it as a small cough. He puts the phone down again. He wonders when he can leave without seeming suspicious. Luckily he is saved not long after, when Deb's phone rings. "I have to go, my dad will pick me up soon."

"Oh, already?" Alice says, sounding sad.

"Yeah," Deb says as she gets up, "thank you for tonight, it was fun." She shakes hands with Bill.

"Yes, thank you," he says. They all walk her out.

"It was great to meet you," Paul says and Deb holds out her arms for a quick hug.

"You too," she says, "next time you can tell me embarrassing things about Alice."

"Of course," Paul says, just as Alice slaps Deb's arm in warning.

"Oh, I have some pictures from our vacation in Florida," Bill says with a grin.

"Dad!"

"That sounds great. Next time?" Deb asks.

"Yeah, next time," Bill agrees and Paul and Alice share quick celebratory smiles.

"I'll burn those beforehand," Alice threatens, opening the door. Her and Deb look at each other and their gazes grow soft. Paul claps his hand on Bill's shoulder and pushes him around, loudly talking about the printer network at their office.

"Bye," Deb calls after a moment. They turn back around and wave goodbye, as they watch her leave.

"I'm gonna head home too," Paul says. He hugs them both, whispering _it went well_ to Alice. She squeezes him even tighter for a moment.

"Bye, Paul," Alice says, "you'll come to dinner next time I'm here, right?"

"Count on it," Paul says. "See you tomorrow, Bill. _Byyyeeeee._ "

He waves as he leaves, and then he crawls into his car. He opens the phone and writes Emma he is on his way. The response is immediate. _fucking finally._ Paul laughs as he drives ahead. He wants to hurry, his whole body is strumming with excitement over getting to see her again. He makes sure to not drive too fast though. Imagine if he got a ticket for speeding, because he was impatient to sleep with Emma.

He chuckles to himself, he is certain Emma would find it beyond hilarious. He'd never hear the end of it. Paul parks the car and heads over to the building. After she has buzzed him in, he takes the elevator up, tapping his foot impatiently. He checks his phone and sees a message from Alice. _It went great! Deb texted and said she had fun. She called it meeting my two gay dads! :D :D_ . Paul laughs and texts her back some lame joke about how Bill would be so lucky to date him. The elevator stops and he remembers why he is there. _Emma_. Waiting for him.

The apartment door is slightly ajar, so he walks inside. "Hello?" he calls.

" _In here_!" she calls back from the bedroom. He closes the door behind him, takes off his shoes and walks after her voice. Emma is slouching on the bed, a glass of whiskey in hand. She's not dressed much, only wearing a thin shirt and blue lacey underwear. He stops and takes her in. _Wow_. "Hey," she says.

"Hey," he says back. He walks over to the bed, feeling a bit more calm than he did last time he was near her. He shrugs off his jacket and places it on the small chair next to the bed. Emma is smiling up at him. She has placed the glass on the bedside table, which is a wooden box covered in graffiti. He dips down, placing his hands on either side of her shoulders. He smiles at her before kissing her deeply. He can taste the whiskey and it makes him smile a little. Her hands land on his ribs right away, and she gently tries to push him down on top of her. Paul doesn't budge though. He remains where he is, beginning to trail kisses down her neck.

"You were impatient today," he whispers.

"It's been a while," she replies. Paul kisses her on the lips again, and her mouth opens, inviting him in. He crawls onto the bed, with one knee on either side of her legs. Emma hums impatiently and then she moves her legs outwards, so she knocks his knees out from underneath him and he falls down on top of her.

" _Ow_ ," she hisses, before laughing, "I didn't think that through."

Paul laughs as well. "I could tell."

"You were being way too slow," she tells him, pinching his side, "I don't wanna drag it out tonight, I just wanna get railed."

He huffs and clears his throat. She's so direct and sexual. It's refreshing, but it makes him _so_ flustered every time. "Yes, ma'am," he says and kisses her again, moving his hands down and under her shirt. He is good at doing what he is told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! If you wanna let me know what you thought, then don't hesitate to leave a lil comment. Love y'all! 
> 
> Paul's family background is heavily inspired from gooddaysunshine's 'Hatchetfield Happies' series Which, if you haven't read yet... You really should. Like. Seriously.
> 
> All the opinions expressed by Deb, Bill and Alice about the Mamma Mia sequel are mine.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and left kudos! You are the best and I love you.  
> Just a warning: This chapter gets a little steamy at first. However I don't think I will write anything more explicit than this though, so do with that info as you please :D Also, I tried a thing to show the passage of time, I hope it works. Enjoy!

It's a rainy day and Emma is tired after class, but luckily Paul is leaving work soon, and then she can drop by his house. She packs more condoms in her purse, alongside a toothbrush and extra underwear. She has learned it's good to be prepared. Her phone beeps, and she smiles at the message of him heading home. She puts on her leather jacket and white sneakers and carries her Beanies uniform with her to leave in her car, just in case she ends up spending the night. Again.

Paul is getting out of his car, when she parks behind it. They both run towards the porch, laughing lightly when they are safe from the rain. Emma waits until they are inside, before she pulls him closer by the lapel of his jacket, and cranes her neck so she can kiss him. He kisses her back, cupping her jaw gently.

"Hey," he says softly, before tilting his head and kissing her a little deeper. Emma melts into his chest, wrapping her arms around him and holding on tightly. She can feel him bend his knees, so he is at a height that makes it easier to kiss her, and she moves a hand up to his hair and tangles her fingers in it. She scrapes her teeth along his bottom lip, yet again reveling in how full and soft it is. This man is gifted in the mouth department - double entendre intended! Paul moves them, so she's squeezed in between him and the wall, and Emma lets out a moan. His body is warm, pressing against every inch of her, and he smells nice, like his cologne and the rain outside. Paul's hands travel around her body, one hand settling on her hip and the other on her chest. Emma breaks the kiss to look at him and take off his jacket. They begin moving towards the staircase, but instead of walking up, Emma gently nudges him downwards, and Paul catches her intention and sits-

-down on her bed. Her room is only lit up by her nightlight. When she looks down at Paul, his eyes reveal that he has been drinking a little, while out with his coworkers. Emma can still taste the rum and coke she had earlier. Paul is watching her with anticipation as she looms over him. His hands land on her hips, like it's second nature to him, and he licks his lips absentmindedly. She pulls him into a hungry kiss, lifting herself up onto his lap. His hand moves from her hip onto her ass, solidifying her theory about him not being too sober this Friday night. Emma wants to take off his clothes and go exploring with her mouth, but Paul falls backwards, taking her with him before flipping them over. She lands on-

-his living room floor and the impact makes a small smacking noise. "Are you okay?" Paul asks, his face hovering just above hers with concern. Emma just laughs while nodding, trailing her hand down his torso and under his shirt. Everything around them is covered in a beautiful orange glow from the evening sun. Paul seems satisfied with her response and resumes their kissing, his mouth open and warm. Emma can feel today's worries disappear, as Paul's hands dive under her shirt and he presses more weight onto her, trapping her between him and the hard, wooden floor. She digs in her nails and wraps her leg around his hip. She pushes his t-shirt up, and when it's off, she flings it away, not caring were it lands, instead she begins kissing his neck. She buries her face in his shoulder-

-when he places her on the dining table. His hand runs up her thigh and underneath her sundress, so he bites him playfully. He makes a noise, and she looks at him, smiling at the sight. He looks back at her with dark eyes, and his lips are red from all the kissing. The afternoon light catches his eyelashes and his hint of stubble. They only have about thirty minutes, before they both have to be elsewhere. Emma leans in and kisses his naked chest, while her hands open his belt and pants impatiently. Paul's fingers tangle in her hair, and he pulls her head back gently, so he can kiss her mouth. Emma can hardly think as she tries to push down his pants. His hand moves from the small of her back-

-to her face, and he brushes her hair away gently. " _Emma_ ," he murmurs through his heavy breathing, and he looks down at her with such warmth and want. They're tangled up together on his bed, their mouths so close they must be sharing air. It's morning, and sunlight is creeping through his curtains. Emma's unable to speak, everything feels so good, so all that escapes her mouth is panting and moaning. Paul's hand grabs hers, placing it above her head, where he intertwines their fingers. Her other hand is between his shoulder blades, her nails digging into his sweaty skin, as she follows his rhythm He kisses her neck, holding himself above her by leaning onto their linked hands. Emma arches her back and moans, closing her eyes momentarily and moving her head to give him better access. He kisses her neck again, biting down a little and she cries out, tightening her grip on his hand. Paul lifts his head to look at her-

-and knocks it into her shower head. " _Ow_ ," he says, trying to move away. His shoulder hits the shampoo bottle a second time and it falls down again, hitting the tiles with a _clang_. Emma starts laughing, pressing her face into his wet chest. She had been right, he doesn't fit in here at all. The shower is too small for any sex to happen, so they have just been kissing a lot. There is something really nice about being naked and wet up against each other.

"I think we might have to have our joined showers solely at my place," Paul says.

"You're so boring," Emma replies. He is right though, there is no way either of them are getting clean squeezed in like this. "So, are you gonna step out and let me wash up, or?"

"Oh, _I_ have to get out first? I see how it is," he jokes. Emma squeezes his ass and kisses his chest.

"Yeah, I think you should," she says, grinning. Paul kisses her on the lips, and then he shuts off the water and steps out of the shower stall. _Ahh, more space._

"I'm stealing another towel after my shower," he tells her and smiles playfully, as he wraps himself in the towel she took out for him earlier. Emma supposes it's fair enough. She picks up the shampoo from the floor.

After her shower, she sits in her fuzzy bathrobe on her bed, her hair wrapped into a towel, and brushes her teeth while Paul showers. She thinks back on the time passed since they started. She can't believe it has already been a little over a month since they had started the arrangement. She has gotten completely used to sleeping next to Paul, not waking up when he stirs or gets up to use the bathroom. They had found a rhythm pretty fast. Once or twice a week Emma texts him, and they find time to meet. It's usually Friday or Saturday, and then sometimes she can't wait that long and texts him during the week as well. The sex is getting _mind-boggling good_! By now she has had sex in almost every possible (and impossible) place in her own apartment, and they are working their way through his house as well.

They have fun in between all the kissing and boning. Paul makes her laugh, mostly on purpose, but also a lot just by being a total dork. As she brushes her teeth, she wonders how long this can last. She knows herself and the truth of the matter is, she gets sick of being stuck or lose interest. She never sticks with things for long, she never feels comfortable with settling down. She needs to have the option of leaving. So far she hasn't grown tired with the arrangement, but it's only a matter of time. Paul still gets flustered whenever she takes off her clothes, so he isn't tired of it yet. Even though he still hasn't initiated a meet-up.

She gets up and goes into the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste, just as Paul comes out of the shower. His hair is dripping, and he is indeed wrapping a new towel around his hips. _Asshole_. He smiles when he sees her, and leans down to kiss her. Emma can't let an opportunity to mess with him go by, so she spits a bit of toothpaste foam into his mouth.

He looks at her in horrified surprise and spits it into the sink dramatically. " _Gross,_ Emma!" he says, spitting again. She copies him and laughs when her mouth is empty.

"Hey, you're the one who kissed me, when my mouth was full," she says defensively, "this is all on you, bub."

"Right, because you couldn't just have told me to wait," he says with exasperated fondness, rolling his eyes.

"No, like I said, my mouth was full," she replies, unable to stop the satisfied grin on her face. Paul laughs in defeat. He leans down and fills his mouth with water, gurgling it before spitting it out. Emma gives him a look. "Wow, eating me out doesn't bother you _and_ you'll kiss me after a blowjob, but my toothpaste foam makes you wanna rinse your mouth. Makes total sense," she teases, doing a round OK gesture with her fingers.

"Look, a man gotta draw the line in the sand somewhere," Paul jokes along. He's blushing though, like he always does when she gets explicitly sexual.

"And you chose toothpaste from my mouth?" Emma says, stepping closer to him.

"Yep," Paul says. He's looking at her like he is about to kiss her, but then he grins, "would you rather I picked one of the two other things you mentioned?"

"Rinsing _your_ mouth after _I_ give you a blowjob doesn't make any sense," Emma responds with a smirk, placing her hand on his wet chest.

"Shut up already," Paul says and kisses her. His hands land on her waist, and she leans her arm backwards to place the toothbrush on the sink, before wrapping her arms around his torso. He's deepening the kiss, and one hand is moving up her back and onto her neck. The towel around her hair is coming undone, and it falls off, leaving her wet hair to hang down. She can feel his body react under the towel.

"We literally just showered after sex," she laughs against his lips.

"All this talk about toothpaste gets me going," Paul jokes.

"You must really enjoy going to the dentist," Emma teases.

" _Mhmm_ ," Paul responds. He leans his forehead against hers for a moment. "Good thing I don't have to leave right now."

"I actually have a study group meeting in an hour," Emma says, her voice full of regret, "so I should probably remain sex-sweat free for now."

"Okay," Paul says, and then he kisses her again. Emma hums under her breath. _Damn him and his lips_.

* * *

The printer beeps loudly and Paul hisses in frustration. He's been trying to make it work for ages. Bill looks over at him, equally frustrated. The whole printer network seems to be struggling. Normally it just sends what they print to the wrong printer, but Paul has walked around the whole office and there is no sight of his spreadsheet anywhere.

"What are we gonna do?" Bill asks, looking tired. Paul shrugs and sighs. This week has been tough, they are two colleges down, so they've been working extra hours. He looks over at Charlotte's desk, but she isn't there. _Damn_. She is good with the printers. Paul doesn't know how, but they usually start working whenever Charlotte comes over to have a look.

Paul saves his files again, and then he looks into his coffee mug. It's empty. He sighs again. He hasn't been to Beanies since last Friday, and now it's Thursday. It's been almost a week. Yesterday Ted made a joke about whether or not the coffee shop would survive without their daily purchases. Paul gets up to go get the coffee in the break room instead. The coffee here is okay, better than Beanies, except he doesn't get to look at Emma, when he gets it. He knows he is a sucker, but he can't help it. When he puts his hand on the doorknob, he hears voices from the inside.

 _"I was clear about my intentions from the beginning!"_ it's an angry whisper. Paul frowns, he shouldn't snoop.

" _Charlotte, he is making you miserable!"_ another angry whisper, this time a little louder, and definitely Ted's voice. _Crap_. Paul wants coffee, but he doesn't want to interrupt whatever they are in the middle of. He backs away from the door, rushing back to Bill.

"Any coffee left?" Bill asks.

" _Uh_ ," Paul says, "Ted and Charlotte were _talking_ in there. I didn't go in."

"Right. Good call," Bill says with a shudder. He stares at his own mug. They try to continue working, but now the internet is being flaky too.

"Oh for _fucks_ sake," Paul groans. His head is starting to hurt and his eyes are getting tired from the contact lenses. For some reason they didn't want to cooperate this morning, and he had poked himself in the eye. He looks up just as Melissa walks past them. She nods at him and Paul smiles at her. He likes Melissa. Nothing in this office would work without her.

He returns his focus to the computer, and tries yet again to make it find the network connecting problem. He hears feet running towards him and looks up just as Melissa sits down on the corner of his desk. She has her hands under her glasses, covering her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"I just walked in on... Ted and Charlotte... and.." she shudders visibly.

"Oh God," Paul grimaces, placing a hand on her arm. Melissa looks up at him.

"Did you know they were-" she pauses, "- doing _that._ "

"In there? No, I just heard them argue," Paul replies.

"Gross," she says, pulling a face. Before either of them can speak, Charlotte comes back to her seat, and when Paul looks over his shoulder, he can see Ted fuming by the water cooler.

"Is there any coffee left?" Bill asks Charlotte, completely nonchalant.

"Oh, yes, I think so. I made a pot not long ago," Charlotte says. All three of them scramble to their feet and rush to the break room, leaving Ted and Charlotte behind.

"What were they arguing about?" Melissa asks in a low voice, while pouring milk into her cup.

"It sounded like Ted was mad she is with Sam," Paul replies with a frown, sipping his coffee.

" _Huh_ ," Melissa says, narrowing her eyes.

"I thought for sure he would break her heart," Bill says, "not the other way around."

"Yeah," Paul agrees.

"It makes sense though," Melissa says, stepping closer, "Charlotte wants to make things work with Sam. I don't know what Ted wants, but he seems like he wants someone to love him."

Paul nods, sipping more coffee.

"What are you gossiping about?" Ted's voice sounds from the door.

"Nothing," Melissa lies perfectly and breezes out of the room with her cup.

"I gotta see if the printer works," Bill says and scurries after her. Ted narrows his eyes as he looks at Paul.

"Ted," Paul says, not sure what else to do.

"Shut the fuck up, Paul!" Ted hisses, "don't gossip about me. Okay?"

"It's not like that," Paul tries to argue, "we were merely concerned-"

"Oh yeah? Just concern? Great, because we've all kept our thoughts about you and your pathetic crush on the barista to ourselves, but now I guess I can _share my_ _concern._ She rejected you. Stop moping like an idiot! Move on!" Then he storms off.

Paul is left alone in the break room, feeling like shit. He wants to run after Ted and say _you don't know what you're talking about_ or _she's sleeping with me, so I guess you're wrong,_ but that wouldn't be a good idea. He leans against the counter and sighs. Fuck this whole week and fuck this day in particular.

When he sits down at his desk again, an uncomfortable silence stretches out. Everyone stares at their screens, types and works. Charlotte can't get the printers to work either, but no one mentions it. Paul wants to ask Bill and Charlotte if they think he is pathetic too, but he isn't sure he can handle the answer. The coffee doesn't fix his headache, and he just wants to go home.

No, he doesn't want to go _home_. He wants to see Emma.

To hear her laugh at him. To see her smile. To feel her lips on his. He wants to drown himself in her and forget everything else. Paul freezes, looking down at his hands. This is what their arrangement is for, right? He has let her call the shots, feeling grateful whenever she would text and choose to spend time with him, but never making requests himself, never asking her for anything.

His fingers are itching to write her. To ask her if she wants to see him.

He feels like he can't. Like the initiative should be hers. He looks at his computer screen. There is another error message from the printer. _Fuck it. Fuck it all._ He takes out his phone and types W _hat are your plans tonight?_ and sends it before he can regret it. He can hear Charlotte sigh over by her desk and the sound of everyone typing and the phones ringing are making the throbbing in his head worse.

It doesn't take long before he gets an answer. She's not at Beanies then. It reads _make mac n' cheese and watch tv._ He can see she's typing more. The next message says w _hy? got any ideas that would be more fun?_ and then a third follows with just winking emojis.

 _Can I come over after work?_ he asks. She responds with a gif of Austin Powers saying _yeah, baby!_ and Paul has to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. He glances at his coworkers, but no one seems to have noticed.

He feels better for a few minutes, until Bill's printer starts making a terrible noise. What is going on today? It's like their office is haunted! Paul forces himself to work on another spreadsheet the last few hours, even accepting some of Bill's sour candy to keep himself going. Finally he can leave. Melissa is packing up too, getting ready for the evening class she takes. They walk out together, and Paul only feels a little bad for the people staying behind.

"We should go out tomorrow, get a well-deserved drink," Melissa suggests.

"Yeah," Paul says, "this week has been truly awful."

"I'll ask around tomorrow, see who wants to join." she already looks like she's planning everything, so Paul nods at her. Melissa claps him on the arm, before heading towards her car. Paul waits until she's driven off, before he starts his car and drives in Emma's direction. His fingers are itching again and he taps them on the steering wheel. He knows he left out enough dry food for Lettuce, because he didn't know when he'd be home today. That means he can head directly towards Emma and spend the whole evening there.

He smiles to himself. He's still not sure what this thing between them is. He knows she's not in it for anything but sex, but the past month has been magical. At least for him. He parks the car and looks at her apartment building. They mostly go to his house, but occasionally they'll spend time here. Like this weekend, where they tried taking a shower together. It was one of the most _intimate_ things they'd done yet, and he had loved it a little too much.

While the elevator bustles up, he loosens his tie and puts it in the pocket of his jacket. She has left her front door ajar for him, so he walks inside without knocking. There is upbeat music coming from the tiny kitchen. Britney Spears, if he is not mistaken. He takes off his shoes and jacket and begins rolling up his sleeves. He stops in the doorway and looks at her. Really looks at her.

She's cooking, stirring something together in a bowl. Her hair is piled up on her head with a bright blue hairclip, but unlike at work, this is messy, with several strands falling down. She's moving to the music, bopping her head up and down and swaying her hips. What really stuns him is what she's wearing. A small, loose top with thin straps and matching silky shorts. They are _tiny,_ showing off her toned legs. She looks so relaxed, so at home. He feels beyond lucky to see her like this. He had thought the sundress two weeks ago was the most attractive thing, he had ever seen her in, but this? _Wow._

He still doesn't know much about her. He knows that she can drink coffee with and without milk, but prefers to add milk after a night of drinking. He knows what she likes when he kisses and touches her, and that she hums to herself when she showers. He knows she will take any chance to make fun of him. However, he doesn't know anything about her life or interests, aside from making him have sex with her in weird places in their homes.

She looks up at him and jumps. "Jesus fuck! Paul!" she scolds, before laughing, "I didn't hear you come in."

"Sorry," he says. He walks closer to her, still in awe. She takes a sip from a glass of red wine, before looking at him again. He stops in front of her. His day really sucked, but it doesn't matter now, because Emma is looking up at him with amusement, like she's about to give him shit for something, and that is slowly becoming one of his favorite things ever.

"What-" she doesn't get any further, because he's kissing her, a little desperately. His hands immediately go to her waist, pressing her up against the counter. She makes a noise in surprise, but kisses him back with enthusiasm. Paul wants to reach up and take her hair out of the clip, but he also likes how it looks. Emma hums, and pulls back. "You taste like sour worms."

Paul laughs. "I ate sour worms earlier, so that might be why."

"Ya think?" Emma swats his chest. Her beautiful eyes are gleaming as she looks up at him.

"You taste like red wine," Paul says.

"A classic combination," Emma jokes. She tries to turn around but Paul kisses her again, running his hand down to touch the silky shorts. "I have to finish cooking," she whispers in between kisses.

"These shorts are _ridiculous,"_ Paul murmurs, trailing his fingers underneath the hem. Emma makes a needy noise in the back of her throat, before pulling back.

"You gotta keep your hands to yourself, buddy," she pushes his hand out, "I've been dreaming about this mac n' cheese all week." She turns around to continue cooking, so Paul takes a seat and watches her. He sighs and rubs his temples. Then, for some reason, his mind begins racing with what is left to do at work.

He sighs again and closes his eyes.

" _Hey_ ," her voice is gentle, interrupting his thoughts. He looks up at her, just as she places a glass of red wine in front of him. She pushes some of his hair out of his forehead. "So, the plan is that I make us this delicious mac n' cheese from my dad's old recipe, and then after we eat, I'm gonna leave all the plates and pans to soak in the sink, while we go into the bedroom and I take your mind off whatever that is spinning around in there. How does that sound?"

"That sounds good," Paul says, and he can't help the big smile that spreads across his face. In this moment, he can _feel_ himself falling for her a little more. He lifts the wine to his lips, and takes a deep drink, while Emma returns her attention to the cooking.

 _Whoa_ , he almost finishes the glass. He watches what's left in there, swirling it around a little. He supposes he can sleep over and get up early? Drive back home tomorrow morning and find clean clothes before work? He looks up at Emma just as she lip-syncs into the wooden spoon she's stirring with. _Yeah_ , if she'll let him sleep over, he will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, friend! <3<3 
> 
> I hope you liked this! if you did, feel free to drop me a lil comment. And come say hi on tumblr, I'm tutselutse there as well.
> 
> Also I kinda hate the fic summary, so if I can think of something better, I'm gonna change it. Consider yourself warned :P


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Emma rights!

The Sunday morning lights are shining through the drapes, lighting up Paul's bedroom in soft golden light, hitting the small piles of quickly discarded clothes on the way to the bed. Emma is lying on her back, concentrating deeply. She frowns at her phone and glances at Paul, who is also on his back, to her left. He's also staring at his phone screen, and she can see the light reflect in his glasses. She gets a notification.

" _Gaseity_?" Emma reads aloud, "that's not a word."

"Incorrect," Paul says, looking at her smugly, "it is a word. It's the state or condition of being gassy or gaseous." Emma frowns, and he grows even more smug, "more importantly, it is 35 points for me _._ "

Emma stares at the word. _Gaseity_? What the fuck? "I think you're cheating," she tells him.

"What?"

"Yeah, you're cheating!" she rolls over, "Gimme your phone, you cheater!"

"How can I be cheating?" Paul asks, while trying to hold the phone out of her reach and push her arms away, "I'm lying right next to you!"

"Gimme!" Emma says, getting her hand on his iPhone. She rolls backwards, onto her right side, trying to look through his open apps. "I just wanna see how you're doing this!" she says, while Paul follows her. He worms his way on top of her and she ends up on her back again. His fingers wrap around her wrist just as their eyes meet and she drops the phone onto the mattress. He's right above her now, and they both fall silent. Emma's gaze drops to his lips.

"Hello there again," Paul says. He's practically already lying between her legs and since they are both naked, the game of _words with friends_ quickly disappears from Emma's mind.

"Oh, hello," she says, biting her lip and rolling her hips against him. "Shall we?"

Paul blinks slowly. "Okay," he agrees, smiling almost bashful at her. Then he dips his head down and kisses her. Emma wraps her arms around his neck, already having forgotten where she left his phone.

* * *

Paul starts the coffee machine, before going over to fill Lettuce's bowl. She appears, as if she telepathically knew he was on his way to get her food. Paul grins. "Hey there," he says, petting her head and scratching her chin. "Did you have a fun night, running around outside?" Lettuce purrs deeply. "That's good. I had a fun night too, staying indoors." He chuckles at his own joke, before finding cat food for her. He hears Emma enter the kitchen and rummage around.

"Can I make soft-boiled eggs?" she asks.

"I don't know, can you?" Paul jokes, looking over his shoulder. Emma rolls her eyes. She's dressed in the shorts and t-shirt from yesterday and her hair is towel dry.

"Fine, _maaaay_ I?" she says, dragging out the vowel. Paul laughs and pets Lettuce again. When he stands back up, he spots his Snoopy mug and one of his blue cups waiting by the coffee machine.

Emma bustles around the kitchen, seemingly familiar with where most things are. Paul takes a carton of orange juice from the fridge and pours them both a glass. He leans against the counter, sipping his own while he watches Emma. She pours coffee in the Snoopy mug and grins at him. He starts setting the table, remembering to take out the blackberry jam he bought, because she mentioned liking it, alongside the sourdough bread out he usually eats.

When the eggs are ready, they take a seat and start eating. Emma pulls her still somewhat wet hair up into a bun.

"I hope this week will go a bit easier on you," she says and sprinkles salt onto her open egg.

"Me too," Paul says, smiling at her as he accepts the salt shaker from her hand, "Mr. Davidson has been away golfing this weekend so hopefully he is in a good mood."

" _Ugh_ ," Emma grimaces, "Is he, like, one of those golf fanatics? Because I hate men who read magazines devoted to golf!"

"He is," Paul laughs. Emma sticks out her tongue in disgust. "Y'know what _I_ hate? I hate frisbee golf and people who call frisbee golf _frolf!"_

"Oh God yes. _Frolf_ is a terrible word!" Emma agrees, gesturing with her spoon. They both chuckle.

"I hate a lot of things actually," Paul says, like it just hit him. "I hate when people say _gotta jet_. And doing the wave at a baseball game. But I probably hate musicals the most."

Emma stares at him for a moment. She had been nodding along to the other things, but this made her stop."Musicals?" she looks confused.

"Watching people sing and dance makes me very uncomfortable," he explains, and takes a sip of coffee.

"You're kind of weird," Emma says, but it's more fond than mocking. Paul feels a little flustered.

"Yeah well," he shrugs, "aren't we all?"

"True," Emma nods, "I really hate water parks. Like, the smell of the chlorine water and the kids screaming and all the lines for rides and food. _Ugh_. I mean, I love swimming and bathing. But water parks ruin all the fun in it. I've hated it since I was a kid. My family loved them, so while they were having fun, I'd just walk around and mutter _this sucks_ until we went home."

Paul listens intently, almost leaning forward to make sure he captures every word of hers. This is the most he has heard her talk about herself probably ever. "I never liked them much either," he agrees, "I was that weird kid who would wear a t-shirt in the pool."

This makes her bark out a laugh. "Why am I not surprised?" Before Paul can answer, her phone rings. She picks up. "Tom. Hi! - Oh - I'm not doing anything - yes yes definitely - I'll be right there!"

Paul looks at her in confusion, wondering who Tom is. His curiosity only rises, when Emma does an air punch after ending the call. She gets up, putting her phone in her pocket.

"I'm so sorry. That was my brother-in-law and he needs me to babysit my nephew. Do you mind if I just, like, run out of here?" she asks, already looking around her like she's checking for her things.

"Not at all, I can clean up," Paul says with a reassuring smile

"Thank you!" she says, with more enthusiasm than he would expect. She walks out of the kitchen, running her hand along his shoulder as she passes him. He can hear her move around the living room and then up the stairs. He continues eating his bread and egg in silence, occasionally glancing at the almost finished food on Emma's plate. It doesn't take long before she comes sliding into the kitchen again. She's holding a purse, a phone charger and her jacket. She grabs her coffee and takes one last sip. Then she moves over to the cat bowl and pets Lettuce. "Bye kitty," she coos. She moves back to the table. "Thanks again," she says, and then she gives him a quick peck on the lips and runs out of the room.

" _Byyyyeee_!" Paul calls after her, before absentmindedly touching his lips. What just happened?

* * *

Emma brushes her teeth in the car while she drives. It takes her back to High School, when she'd try to cover that she had been smoking on the way home from hanging out with her friends. She's buzzing with excitement over getting to see Tim. She's sure Tom wouldn't have called her unless he had no other options, since he hasn't really asked her before. But that isn't going to bring her down, she's ready to be a part of Tim's life and make amends. It was nice of Paul to let her go with such a short notice. She smiles to herself as she turns to the left, down to Tom's neighborhood.

She hops out of the car, checks herself in the side mirror, and then runs up their garden path. She knocks on the door. It is pulled open and then Tim is staring up at her. His hair is as untamed as she remembers, sticking up in every direction, and he is wearing a t-shirt with Batman on it.

"Hi Aunt Emma," he says, his voice full of cheer.

"Hey there Tim," Emma grins. Tim looks at her for a moment, and then he opens his arms and hugs her. She looks up just as Tom appears, putting on one of his many _many_ flannel shirts.

"You made it," he says, before leaning over and putting on his boots.

"Yeah," Emma says. Tim lets go of her, and walks over to his dad. Tom messes up his hair affectionately.

"Have fun today kiddo," he says, "be nice to your aunt. She's not used to kids." The _fuck you_ is right there on Emma's tongue, but she manages to hold it back. The guy is such an asshole. _Really, Jane? This guy?_

"What are we gonna do today?" Tim asks, curiosity burning in his eyes.

"I was thinking we could go to the Lakeside mall," Emma suggests, "see if they are showing anything good in the Cineplex? Or maybe get an ice cream?" she looks at Tom and adds, "if- if that's okay?"

"Sounds good," Tom shrugs. He walks over and holds out his closed hand. Emma looks at it in confusion. Does he wanna shake her hand? She holds out her own, and Tom places a key in it. "If you get done before me."

"Right, yeah," Emma nods. She puts the key in her purse.

"Well, don't stand there, kiddo," Tom says, "your shoes and jacket won't put themselves on." Tim makes a face at Emma, and she fights a grin. He puts on his little sneakers and his blue jacket. Tom pulls him into a big bear hug and kisses the side of his head. "Have fun," he says, in what is probably the softest tone Emma has ever heard him use.

"Bye, Dad," Tim says. Then he takes Emma's hand and they walk to her car. Emma suddenly doesn't know what to say. She likes Tim, he's a good kid, but what do you talk to a nine year old about? Do you tell them about your life? It's not like she can mention Paul.

Tim flips through the radio channels in her car, as they drive to the mall. He doesn't seem like he's looking for anything, instead he seems to like the abrupt cutting off of each song and sentence. He experiments with the length of the intervals. "Y'know," Emma starts, "I always flipped through the channels fast and my dad wouldn't let me."

"Dad won't either, he says it stresses him," Tim says.

"Well, it _is_ kind of annoying," Emma says, glancing down at him, "but you can do it today."

A wide smile spreads across his face and mischief gleams in his eyes. "Can I always do it in your car?"

"No, because sometimes I have to concentrate more, like when it rains," she says, "but you can ask me every time, okay?"

"Score!" Tim says and flicks through them even faster. Not used to kids, _huh Tom_? Well, she's nailing it already!

They park and walk towards the mall. Tim is bouncing in his step, and Emma takes his hand while they are around the other cars. Inside the mall she heads to the Cineplex. They look at the films, but they are either for much younger kids, or films Emma isn't sure Tom would approve of her showing Tim. Disappointed, they head into the mall instead. They go the ice cream shop first, each of them picking two scoops.

They eat by one of the small tables. Tim picked strawberry and mango and Emma picked chocolate and hazelnut. She gets Tim to tell her a little about school and his friends. He is a nice mix between Jane and Tom. He doesn't blabber on like Jane or herself, but he isn't as hard to drag words out of as Tom. While he talks, Emma leans forward and steals a spoonful of his ice cream. He gapes at her.

"Not bad," Emma grins. Tim tries to steal from her, and she moves her cup away from him. He looks scandalized, so she puts it back within reach.

"What's that?" Tim asks, pointing behind her. She pretends to fall for it, but turns back around fast, so she can catch him in the act. He starts laughing. It's a deep bubbly laugh from his belly, and Emma feels warm and proud. She hasn't heard him laugh that much since... ever.

"It tastes like nutella," he says, licking his lips.

"Exactly, kid," Emma winks and sends him one finger gun. "Hazelnut gelato is the sh-best. Always pick that."

"Were you about to say shit?" Tim asks, narrowing his eyes.

"No," Emma lies.

"Liar," Tim says.

" _Fine_ ," Emma says, "don't tell your dad."

"Will you let me get more of your ice cream?" Tim asks. Wow, he's just as much of a little shit as her.

"Okay," Emma says. She holds out the ice cream and he takes a huge spoonful. "Don't be greedy," she says and Tim just smiles like all his evil plans are coming together nicely. Emma's heart feels like it grows two sizes.

They finish the ice cream, and then they walk around, looking at stores. Tim wants to go inside Toyzone, and Emma follows. Maybe she can buy him some fun little toy? They walk through the store, staring at dolls and cars and a machine that lets you make slime or something. It looks gross. Tim runs down an aisle, looking for dinosaurs. Emma follows him slowly, walking past a sour-looking teenager, who is putting more Paw Patrol toys on the shelves.

"Fucking cop propaganda," Emma mutters under her breath. The teenager snorts, and looks up. She has black eyeliner and several piercings in her ears. She offers Emma a small acknowledging nod and Emma returns it.

She finds Tim staring in deep adoration at a dragon that can move around and spew steam out of its mouth. "Holy smokes!" Emma says, placing a hand on his shoulder, "that's cool."

"Yeah," Tim says. He's a little mesmerized.

"It's a bit pricey," Emma says," do you wanna find a smaller thing I can get you?"

"Okay," Tim says, "but I want a dragon like that for my birthday. Will you tell my dad?"

"Yeah, I will," Emma promises. They continue through the store, and end up spending a long time choosing. Tim keeps changing his mind, when he finds something new. First he wanted a soft shark doll. It was adorable and reminded Emma of Left Shark. Then Tim saw a scary monster mask and wanted that. He spent a long time deciding between the mask and a small box of Lego. But then he saw a pair of water guns and he got this excited look in his eyes.

"Do you think Dad can play with these?" he asks, looking up at her.

"Maybe?" Emma shrugs. His face begins to fall, so she kneels down, "but hey -if he can't, then I promise to come over loads this summer and use them. Okay?"

Tim downright beams and Emma feels like everything is a little better in her life. She buys him the water soakers and adds a small shiny bouncy ball from the counter. She promises to teach him how to use it. Then they continue down through the mall. Emma spots a small store with silly gadgets and costumes. She hasn't seen it before, so she takes Tim in there.

Most of the stuff is ridiculous. They try on weird glasses, hats and look at quirky little figurines. Emma finds a few shelves full of funny mugs. She looks through them, chuckling to herself, while Tim searches through an entire basket full of little animal figures doing human things. On the back of the shelf there is a white mug with some black writing on it. Emma picks it up.

Written in large letters is: _I've got a dig bick._ And then below in smaller letters: _if you read it wrong, drink more coffee._

She nearly bursts out laughing, and she quickly puts the mug back before Tim want to see it. She quickly refocuses on the basket of figurines. Tim has found a bear in a flannel with a coffee mug.

"It looks like your dad," Emma says.

"It does," Tim says, "can we get it for him?"

"Yeah," she nods and messes with Tim's hair. They buy the little bear, and Tim puts it into his bag from Toyzone. They head down to the play place by Marshals and Emma watches Tim play around for a while. Her thoughts keep drifting back to the mug. It was really funny. She finds all of Paul's matching blue mugs to be ridiculous. They are from Ikea and they are so boring. She always picks the one he has with Snoopy as a protest. Funny and weird mugs are important! It's really so typical Paul to have six of the exact same cup. Weirdo.

Emma watches Tim slide down and hoots at him. He gives her a look, like she's being a lame adult. Emma chuckles. She can't wait to embarrass the shit out of him when he becomes a teenager. Her phone rings and she picks it up. It's Tom. "Hey," she says.

" _Emma_ ," Tom says, " _I'm done now and will be driving home."_

"Great," Emma says, "we're still at the mall."

" _It's actually almost on my way, so I can just pick him up there,"_ Tom says.

"Of course," Emma says, looking at Tim as he climbs up the slide the wrong way.

" _It'll be twenty to thirty minutes,"_ Tom says. They say goodbye, and then Emma heads up to tell Tim the news. Somehow he convinces her to try the slide, even though she knows, there is no way her ass will fit in there. She's right and she has to sit mostly on her left ass cheek as she slides down. It's not exactly graceful but she makes it. Tim is happy and gives her a high-five. They head up back through the mall, looking a little at the store windows. Tim seems to have burned some energy now. That or the sugar from the ice cream ran out. He's more quiet now, and he takes her hand again as they walk. Emma gives it a squeeze.

They sit on a bench outside and wait the last ten minutes. It's nice. They play the slapping hand game. When Tom turns up and says a gruff _hi_ , Emma looks up and Tim immediately slaps her hand.

"You little -" she says, but she can't stop grinning.

"Did you have fun?" Tom asks, after Tim has wrapped him in a hug.

"Yes," Tim says, "we got ice cream and went into Toyzone and then we looked at toys and I got a gift. _Ooh_ and then we bought you a gift!" Tim looks in his bag and excitedly pulls out the little bear. Tom gets a soft look in his eyes as he lifts it up.

"Thanks," he says, and then he smiles genuinely at her.

"It was Tim's idea," Emma says, not sure what else to add.

"It was?" Tom looks down at Tim, smiling, "do you think it looks like me?" Tim laughs and Tom tickles him a little. It's all very cute.

" _Oh_ , _um_ , here," Emma says and hands him the key back. Tom nods.

"Are we going home now?" Tim asks.

"Yep," Tom says. Emma crouches down a little and wraps her arms around Tim. They hug for a while.

"Thanks for today, Timmy," Emma says. She and Tom nod at each other.

"Bye Aunt Emma," Tim says. He walks off with his dad and Emma watches them leave. She's about to head to her car, when she remembers the dumb mug again. She pauses. It would be really funny to give to Paul. He'd get so flustered. Plus, his mug collection is pathetic and needs some splash.

She heads back into the mall, buying the mug and a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses in the store. Then she goes back to her car. She places the little box with the mug next to her uniform in the trunk and then she drives home. She has a big pile of reading from Hidgens to get started on.

* * *

It's Saturday morning, not even the middle of June, and everything is so warm already. The sun is shining down from a clear sky, baking Hatchetfield until the streets are practically steaming. The past week has been better, with work being more tolerable. Mr. Davidson was in a better mood, and they were back to being fully staffed again. During the week Emma has been sending him dumb things. It started with a picture of a cat in her parking lot, where she had written _gonna kidnap him and name him Dressing_. It had made him laugh. Then there was a picture of a drawing of a penis in the Beanies bathroom, and yesterday she kept sending him memes.

Paul wears a t-shirt and shorts to meet Alice and Bill. They stroll through town, looking at stores. Alice has her hair in a braid and she hooks her arm around Paul's as they walk. The plan was to walk for a while, but after not very long, they are warm and need to sit down in the shade. Bill especially is voicing his need for an iced caramel frappé. Alice suggests Beanies since it's not far and Paul doesn't object.

They walk inside and immediately feel better as they are enveloped in cool air from the air conditioner. Bill exhales loudly. Paul spots Emma behind the counter, making coffee for someone. "Is it bad that I wanna stay inside?" Alice asks, pushing her sunglasses up on top of her head. "Air conditioner is a lifesaver."

"You won't hear me object," Bill says.

"I'm in," Paul says, noticing Bill and Alice exchange smiles. Emma's taller coworker takes their orders, and then they find a table. Paul ends up sitting so he can see the counter behind Alice. They talk and laugh as they drink their coffee. Paul keeps glancing at Emma, as she takes orders and slings coffee over the counter. Occasionally she glances back at him and their eyes meet. She sends him a small smile, and Paul's insides flutter. He refocuses on Alice and listens to what she's saying about school back at Clivesdale.

Another few minutes pass and then he looks back at Emma again. Her back is turned, but then she hands coffee to a customer and looks at him again. She smiles again and Paul smiles back.

"Deb and I are going to a concert tonight," Alice tells them, "it's going to be fun. I hope it won't be this hot though."

"Sounds great," Paul says, just as Bill clicks his tongue.

"It sounds warm and clammy," he says. Paul snorts.

"Could you take off the _no-socks_ for about half an hour, Dad?" Alice asks. Paul has to hold his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

"Alice," Bill warns, but his eyes twinkle.

Paul feels a buzz in his pocket and takes out his phone. It's a message from Emma. _Stop staring at me, nerd. I'm coming over later._ He smiles at the phone and puts it down.

"So, what band are you going to see?" he asks Alice, trying to make himself forget that Emma is near.

* * *

Emma puts her phone back in her purse in the break room. Paul is not subtle, people are going to go to notice something. Especially the people he is with, who have already sent her and Zoey long looks. She walks back outside, and helps at the counter. Zoey goes to the back of Beanies to pick up used cups and plates, so Emma takes care of the customers.

One of them tips her, and while groaning internally, she plasters on a fake smile and sings a silly little tip song about coffee. The customers in line all laugh and clap and Emma does a little curtsey. She looks back at Paul for a moment, and he smiles at her. He is such an idiot.

Zoey comes back just as Emma hands coffee to the last guy in line. She probably timed it, the sneaky asshole. "That was good singing," Zoey comments, "I told you you could do better."

Emma chooses to ignore how this is indirectly Zoey patting _herself_ on the back. "Thanks."

"Y'know, me and the others were talking about our next production, and, like, with some guidance, you could be a nice addition," Zoey says, seemingly just brainstorming out loud while she refills the sugar packs, "I'm sure I could find you a small role."

Emma scoffs. "Zoey," she says as seriously as she can, "If I wanted to be in a musical, I'd be in a damn musical. I was in Brigadoon in High School, and I fucking killed it." She isn't sure herself, whether she's annoyed at Zoey or joking along.

"Wait," Zoey frowns, "are you saying no, or that you'd be good at it?"

"Both," Emma grins, "I don't want to, but I would be good at it." She sends Zoey a wry smile, before turning around to wipe down the counter. Paul isn't looking at her now, and she almost feels a little disappointed. It was fun catching him in the act.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS for reading this chapter!  
> I hope you liked it!!! 
> 
> The things they hate are all stolen from the lyrics to I Hate Everything But You. (you've guessed it, it's from CEG).  
> And so is the opening scene of them playing words with friends. I am a copycat, lol. 
> 
> If you spot a typo or something, lemme know. I hate typos and want them gone! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. I wanna thank you again for all the love and support this fic is getting. It's so sweet!!  
> Here is another chapter - it's a little shorter than usual. Also I just started an internship, which requires loads of work, so I apologize if my posting becomes a bit more sporadic. I'll do my best to make time for this fic!

Paul spends the rest of the afternoon in his backyard, reading a book in the shade. Lettuce lies on another chair, in the sun, deeply asleep. It was a good day with Bill and Alice, but much sunshine always leaves him tired. He drinks extra water, when he's back inside the house. He leans against the counter and sighs. It's going to be nice to see Emma, after stealing glances at her earlier. He's excited, feeling his heart speed up whenever he thinks about her coming over. He gets to kiss her soon.

He takes out the trash, and leaves the door unlocked for her, before sitting down and placing a new word in his game with Alice. Later Emma lets herself in, and joins him in the kitchen, where he is feeding Lettuce. She has a bag slung over her shoulder and a brown paper bag with groceries in her arms. He moves over to take them from her, and she gives him a casual peck on the lips in greeting, after handing the groceries over. Paul's heart thumps.

"What did you get?" he asks, moving towards the refrigerator.

"I'm making us shakshuka today," she says, smiling brightly, "I know it's warm as fuck outside, but I suddenly craved it."

"Sounds good," Paul nods, not really knowing what it is. He puts the ingredients in the fridge. When he looks up Emma and Lettuce have disappeared. Paul takes out two wine glasses and gets the bottle of white wine he put in the fridge yesterday. "Hey Em!" he yells, "Do you want a glass of wine?"

There is a small pause, and then she yells back " _yes!_ "

He pours them two generous glasses, and after putting the lid back on the wine and placing it back in the fridge, he carries the glasses into the living room. Emma has removed her shoes, and is sitting on the couch, petting Lettuce, who has curled up next to her. "Looks cozy," Paul says.

"Yeah," Emma says. She's looking at him with an unreadable expression in her eyes. "Gimme!" she holds out her hand. After a long sip, she looks at him. "Wines," she sighs happily.

" _Yeah_ ," Paul agrees. He takes a seat next to her and Lettuce, and Emma readjusts herself so she can place her legs over his. Lettuce sits up and walks over to Paul, stretching out next to him. It's silent for a while. They drink wine and Paul scratches Lettuce. Then Emma clears her throat.

"I'm spacing out, sorry," she says.

"That's okay," Paul replies, sending her a smile and placing his hand on her ankle.

"I just.." she sighs, and looks up at him, the unreadable look back in her eyes. "It's been a long time since anyone has called me _Em_."

" _Oh_." he doesn't know what else to say.

"My sister, Jane, called me that," she says, looking at her hands, "we were Emma and Jane. Janey and Em."

Paul watches her, waiting for her to say more. When she doesn't, he squeezes her ankle and rubs slow circles with his thumb. "I don't have to call you that. I can stop."

"No, no," she says, lifting her gaze and sending him a somber smile, "I like it."

"Okay," Paul replies, smiling back. His pulse is quick and he is almost scared to move, in case it stops her from talking more.

"Jane, she..." Emma trails off and takes another long sip of wine, before putting her glass down on the coffee table. "She was the good one. I was too wild. Anti-authority. A stoner kid. Y'know the type."

Paul nods, gently urging her along.

"Jane, however, mapped out her whole life in a Lisa Frank binder as a kid and then she stuck to it. Job, husband, house, kid." Emma visibly swallows. "I wasn't home. I left Hatchetfield when I was 18. I raised my middle finger, went backpacking in Guatemala and never looked back. Jane would - _uh_ \- she'd invite me home for the big events, and I'd always say _sorry I'll catch the next one._ Then, when I got the invitation to her funeral, I was like _oh there won't be a next one._ "

Paul doesn't know what to say. He wants to say something good, something supportive. Something better than _I'm sorry_ , but he can't think of anything. He continues to rub circles on her ankle as he thinks. "I'm sorry," he finally says, giving up on finding something else.

Emma does a dismissive move with her hand. "So there I was, with no roots except _here_. Her son is nine. His name is Tim, which is hilarious, since her husband is named Tom. Jane always had a strange sense of humor." Her face looks fond for a moment, and Paul can almost see memories flash in front of her eyes. "I'm trying to do something with myself that she would be proud of. And I'm trying to connect with her family. Tom isn't my biggest fan. Apparently missing out on the last decade of your sisters life kinda gives a bad impression. Who'd have thought, huh?" she jokes halfheartedly. 

Paul huffs, not really laughing, but acknowledging the joke none the less. Emma wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. She looks at him, and her eyes look shinier than normal. "So that was why you were so excited to babysit," he says, offering her a gentle smile. Emma chuckles.

"Yeah." she nods. "I think we made progress. I hope so." She begins to undo her hair, taking out the hairclip and the many pins.

"I am sure you did," Paul says reassuringly. When her hair is down, she shakes it and looks at him.

"Thanks," she says, sending him a half-smile. The one he likes. "You have no fucking way of knowing, but I appreciate it."

Paul scoots closer, seemingly annoying Lettuce in the process, as she meows and jumps up. He reaches out a hand, and gently runs his fingers through Emma's hair, pushing it away from her face. He repeats the motion, but this time stops his hand at the back of her head. Then he leans in and presses a kiss against her lips.

Emma kisses back tentatively. His other hand is on her knee. It's a soft kiss, just lips against lips, moving slowly. Gentler than any of their previous kisses. Emma's hand cups his jaw, and when Paul is about to pull back, she holds in him in place.

* * *

Telling someone about Jane had actually been a relief. Emma hadn't realized how heavy it was to carry around alone. Paul listened and he hadn't retracted in shock and dislike. Instead he is now kissing her, holding onto her, like it doesn't change his view of her in the slightest. Emma runs her thumb along his cheek, before letting go for now. It's the first time they've kissed just to kiss and not working their way towards more.

Paul looks at her and smiles. It makes Emma feel warm inside. She grabs the wine glass and takes another sip. Cool white wine is perfect for a hot day like today. She leans back in the seat, feeling tired and a little sluggish after talking about herself.

"So who were you hanging out with at Beanies?" she asks him, holding onto the glass.

"Bill is my coworker and best friend. Alice is his daughter. They're kind of family," Paul answers, "Bill and Alice's mom are divorced, so she lives in Clivesdale, but one week a month Alice comes here to live with Bill and then we usually find time to hang out."

"That sounds nice," Emma says. Paul has a fond look in his eyes, one she normally only sees when he talks about Lettuce. "So, they are substitute family? Do you have other family?"

"My older sister lives in Pinebrook with her husband and kid. My younger brother moved out of Hatchetfield to study and never came back. My parents moved too, not long after." Paul shrugs. The fond look is gone. "My sister is the only one who likes Hatchetfield as much as me. We never had much else in common, though."

"My parents are dead," Emma says. She can tell Paul is taken aback by the nonchalance in her tone, even though he tries to hide it. "Dad got the ol' cancer, and it just spread right through him. Mom carried on without him for about two years and then one day her heart just stopped. She was at the store, buying herbal tea. I didn't come back for their funerals. I considered it with my dad, but... I couldn't bear to be in the room with people crying and grieving, while I myself mostly felt numb. I didn't even miss them when I left."

Paul's hand land on hers, providing it with a warm and reassuring cover. Emma lifts her thumb and runs it along the edge of his hand. "I will be sad, when my parents die, but probably not as much as I'm supposed to. We only see each other at my nieces' birthdays."

So far talking about this has been nice, and not uncomfortable, but she can tell she's reaching her limit. Vulnerability is difficult, and while this conversation has been easier than pretty much any other time she has opened up, it's still draining her. She decides to change the subject. "Let's circle back to you and Hatchetfield. You really love it here?"

"Yeah." Paul nods. "Been here my whole life. I never wanted to leave. It's a good little island."

Emma snorts. "You're a dork," she says, and then she gets the urge to kiss him again. So she does. She lingers for a while, enjoying the light pressure from his lips against hers. Then her stomach growls and she pulls back in surprise. " _Oh_! I was supposed to make shakshuka!"

"I have no idea what it is, but I'm in," Paul says, smiling playfully.

"Feeling adventurous, are we?" she teases, before brushing a quick kiss against his lips.

They venture into the kitchen, and Emma puts Paul to work, chopping up red bell peppers and onions. She searches through his lower cabinets until she finds a solid sauté pan. When Paul has chopped all she needs him too, he begins cleaning up after her, washing whatever she's done using. As the thick red sauce bubbles away in the pan, she refills their wine glasses.

"Back at Beanies, you mentioned you were in your high school production of Brigadoon?" he says it like a question.

"You spying on my conversations, Paul?" she asks with a grin.

"I happened to pick up on it," he says, and she can see a hint of blush in his cheeks. _Cute_.

"Well, you heard right, stalker," she grins and stirs the pan. "I was Bonnie Jean," she says in her best attempt at redoing the accent. Paul laughs lightly. It's a nice sound.

"That was 2003, right?" he says, and she nods. "I actually saw you in Brigadoon!"

"No shit!"

"Yes shit!" Paul nods, a little excited. "We didn't have a theater program at our school so I guess to make us feel like crap, they bussed us over to your school."

"Wait," Emma interrupts, "you didn't go to Hatchetfield High? Are you a fucking Timberwolf?"

"Sadly yes," Paul says and it makes her laugh.

"Can't believe I've been boning someone from Sycamore. Sophomore Emma would be _so_ disappointed." she stirs again. "So you saw me in Brigadoon?"

"Yeah, it was the first musical I ever saw." he nods. "I hated it."

"Ouch," Emma says, looking at him.

"It's probably the start of my whole thing," he muses, before looking at her with mischief in his eyes. " _You're_ the reason I don't like musicals."

"Wow, so it's, like, your origin story?" she jokes, "I guess that makes me the super villain?"

"I don't think of you like that at all, Emma," he says, and it's earnest and sweet and leaves her feeling as vulnerable as when she talked about her dead family. Before she can respond, her alarm rings. Time to adds the eggs. She takes the carton out of the fridge and cracks four eggs into the pan, leaving them on top to be poached. Then she puts the lid on.

Paul suggests eating in the dining room, but Emma sets his breakfast table. Dining room is _date-like_. This isn't a date, this is just her cooking for him before they have sex. They eat sliced white bread to the shakshuka and finish the bottle of wine. Paul likes the food, which is a relief, since she imposed it on him. He eats both his eggs and a little extra, before he cleans his bowl with a slice of bread. They talk more about the rivalry between their High Schools, and then Paul lets her sit while he cleans up and starts the dishwasher. She's pretty full now - she probably shouldn't have had such a large second portion.

"Do you want some tea?" he offers. That's when Emma remembers the mug she bought.

" _Oh_!" she sits up, "I have something for you." She's almost out of the kitchen, when she turns around and adds: "tea would be nice."

* * *

Paul sets the kettle over and puts stuff out for tea. He's really full from all the food, so a small break before sex would be nice. He's curious about what she has for him. He suspects it's a box of condoms or something. While the tea seeps, he taps his fingers on the counter and sighs. Tonight has been different. He knows her much better now. So many pieces of the Emma puzzle have been put down. His heart breaks for her and her sister. The grief is clearly a big part of her. He just wants to hug her and make her feel better.

He can hear her come inside again, and she looks very pleased with herself as she walks into the kitchen. She places a white cardboard square on the table. "I've had this in my car for a week now," she says. Paul looks at it. It's probably not a box of condoms.

He picks it up. It's a little heavy. He opens the lid and sees a white porcelain mug. He lifts it out and turns it around to examine it. When he reads what's on it, a big wave of laughter hits him.

 _"I've got a dig bick_?" he reads it aloud, when he can control his voice again. Emma is laughing too, holding onto her stomach.

"I saw it in a store and I just had to get it for you," she says, playfulness lighting up in her eyes, "your collection of cups is so sad. You need this. Plus, you should totally brag about your... _bick._ "

Paul holds the mug, still laughing, while also blushing a little at her comment. It's such a dumb gift, but the fact that she thought of him, and had to get it for him, is making his heart feel about three times as big as normal. He looks at her. She has that gleam in her eyes, the one she gets, when she gives him shit and knows she's funny. There is a softness to her smile though. "This is a ridiculous mug, Em," he says. Small crinkles form around her eyes as the smile widens.

Paul suddenly knows that he loves her.

It's not just an infatuation any more, it's not just a crush. No, this is more than constantly growing romantic feelings. This is actual _love_. Deep, strong and a part of every cell of his body. She's becoming central in his life. He has fallen completely for her.

He is in love with Emma Perkins.

The revelation takes his breath away and yet it feels so natural. Of course he loves her! How could he not? She's sharp and funny, but still sweet and helpful. She surpasses all dreams he ever had of a partner. Paul puts down the mug and walks over to her, almost in a trance. He pulls her into a hug, and holds her against him for as long as he can get away with, dipping his head down so he can sneakily smell her hair. After a while Emma pinches his side and when he looks at her, she rolls to the balls of her feet and kisses him. Paul's heart jumps. He is kissing the woman he loves.

Emma's hand trails down his side and settles on his hip, before breaking the kiss. "Thanks for the mug," Paul says, stealing another kiss.

"It's no big," Emma says, "now, let us move this to the couch."

Paul carries the tea into the living room, and sits down next to Emma. She cuddles up against him, and they continue kissing. This time it's lazy, just enjoying being close. Paul plays with the strands of her hair. He tries to push his new revelation out of his mind and just enjoy the easy and comfortable dynamic between them. It's not like the fact that he loves her changes anything.

* * *

Emma is a little sleepy from all the wine and food, but she doesn't want to stop kissing. Her hand is settled on Paul's shoulder, her thumb pressing against his collarbone. His fingers are playing with her hair, sending tingles across her scalp and down her spine. She sighs, deeply content with sitting like this and feeling him close to her.

She's glad Paul liked the mug. It was nice to see him laugh and then smile, like it meant something to him. He's such a sweet guy. The hug had been nice too. She had actually needed it after talking about Jane. Getting wrapped up in Paul's surprisingly strong arms and held close against his chest had made her able to exhale a little deeper than usual.

After who knows how long, Paul breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. She can feel his breath hit her lips. "I'm really full from all that food," he says. Emma snort-laughs.

"Are you saying you aren't feeling up for crazy acrobatic sex right now?" she asks. Paul's hand cradles the side of her face.

"That's exactly what I am saying," he replies with a chuckle and presses another kiss against her lips. "Why, were you planning on trying it for once?"

Emma moves backwards and looks at him with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I wouldn't exactly call the sex we have _acrobatic_ ," he says with a grin. Emma gapes at him.

"Watch it, Matthews," she says, raising a finger. He's on her turf now, making sex jokes. Paul watches her, still grinning. He leans back on the couch, stretching his long legs out under the coffee table.

"If you wanna try a handstand next time, be my guest," he jokes.

"You're gonna drop your fucking jaw, when I do it," Emma tells him, scooting closer against him. She places her hand on his stomach and rubs it. "But since you're too full from overeating, we can definitely wait."

Paul smiles and his blue eyes light up with warmth. Emma places her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes. It's incredibly comfortable to rest like this. It's like his shoulder has the perfect size for her head. Her hand is still on his stomach, and she has folded her legs up underneath her. She's so comfortable, she could fall asleep.

She's thinking about her day, smiling at Paul at Beanies and having banter with Zoey, when she feels his hand land on hers and his cheek rest against the top of her head. She can tell sleep is creeping up on her, threatening to pull her under. Paul mumbles something, but she can't hear it. She moves her hand slowly, so she can intertwine their fingers.

Her last thought before dozing off is _this is nice_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "yes shit" is one of my fave paul lines. and I know that his hate for musicals isn't as big a part of this fic but i love the supervillain/i don't think of you like that at all stuff and i wanted to include it! 
> 
> THANKS for reading. I love ya. If you want to leave a comment, please don't hesitate. I'll be grateful for a keyboard smash or an emoji. Thanks again!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeeeeey y'all. Happy 4th of july if you celebrate.  
> This one is a bit longer and it's steamy. Also Emma feels.

"... then I hiked down to this small town, and I was completely soaked. Yeah, Lettuce, _soaked_! To the fucking bone."

Paul wakes up to a voice talking. He is in his bed, face down into the pillow. They had both dozed off on the couch, and woken up an hour later to cold tea. They had stumbled to bed, and luckily he had been able to fall asleep fast. His sleepy self had been very close to whispering _I love you_ into her hair back on the couch, but had luckily stopped halfway through. She hadn't responded, so he hopes she didn't hear it.

He turns his head and opens an eye. Emma is sitting against the headboard, one leg underneath her, and the other folded with her arm around her knee. Lettuce is lying with her face on Emma's ankle, purring as Emma pets her and talks.

".. and the kids were sweet, but loud. I swear, Lettuce, that was the best fucking tamales I got in Guatemala. I could really eat those again right now." Emma continues talking. Paul watches her. She's blurry, since he isn't wearing his glasses, but she still looks good. "And I think your silly owner is eavesdropping on our conversation."

" _Hhmmphh,_ " Paul says, lifting himself up on his arm. "I don't wanna interrupt your girl talk." He can hear Emma laugh as he turns around and grabs his glasses

"Yeah, me and Lettuce are friends, and you're barging in on our time," Emma says. Lettuce continues purring.

"My apologies," Paul says, laying down on his back, "I would have continued sleeping, but _someone_ was talking loudly."

"Must have been Lettuce," Emma replies, sending him a cheeky smile.

"Yeah, must've," Paul responds. He is vaguely aware that he must be staring adoringly at Emma, but he can't get his face to stop. There is something about her, with hair messy from sleep, dressed in nothing but underwear and a loose top, talking and getting along with his cat. His heart feels like it wants to escape out through his chest. He's still not fully awake and that leaves a certain, soft fuzziness over the whole sight. He wouldn't mind waking up to this every day for the rest of his life.

He moves his pillow closer and reaches out to pet Lettuce. Emma's fingers brush against his briefly and he gets goosebumps. It's been all this time of regular sex and still, the tips of her fingers brushing his accidentally still leaves his body responding like the first time they talked.

_Fuck_ , he just really loves her.

"I can't believe we fell asleep on the couch, like a pair of old people," Emma says, shaking her head in disappointment.

"After _one_ bottle of wine," Paul says with a fake sadness, "what happened to the old days, when we would get drunk at a bar and go home and have sex?"

"I still remember those nights, like they were last month," Emma says fondly, staring off into the distance. They both laugh, sending each other grins. Paul lifts himself on his arm, and Emma leans down, so they can kiss softly. Paul pauses on the way down, and presses a gentle kiss against her bare thigh.

"Should I get up and make us coffee?" he suggests.

"Nah, I have to leave for work in two hours time," Emma replies, sending him another cheeky smile. "I have a different idea for what we could do until then."

"Oh, yeah?" Paul asks, smiling and raising one eyebrow.

"Yep," Emma says, petting Lettuce again. "It's a private, two-people thing."

"Not cat friendly?" Paul asks.

"No," she answers, and then she gets this ridiculous smile on her lips, "Do you think she'll _lettuce_ be alone?"

Paul breaks into laughter, taken aback by the pun. "Oh my God," he gets out, moving over to her thigh again, "Emma-". 

"That was fucking hilarious! I'm a genius!" she says. She picks Lettuce up and looks into her eyes. "Right? A fucking genius." Lettuce meows and after she has been placed on the bed again, she jumps down and runs off. "She's a good wing-woman," Emma grins.

Paul is still laughing, and he kisses Emma's thigh again. He gets up, so he is sitting on his knees in front of her. She blinks up at him, her eyes dark and lids a little heavy. Then she reaches up and gently removes his glasses, placing them on the bedside table next to her. Something about that action makes his heart beat faster. Then she moves forward and kisses him hungrily, also sitting up on her knees. Her hands bury themselves in his hair, while he places one hand on the small of her back and the other hand moves up to palm her on top of the clothes. Emma moans and tugs at his hair. They are slowly rising up, and Paul moves his hands under her top, so he can lift it off.

Emma pulls him closer again, kissing him. Her mouth is open and warm, inviting him in. Her hands travel down his body and settles at the elastic in his boxers. Her thumbs sneak underneath and Paul lets out a little noise involuntarily.

Underwear and boxers are discarded fast, and then Emma pulls him down on top of her, still kissing him eagerly. Emma is so small, when she is underneath him like this. It's the best feeling in the world. He lifts himself up, planning on moving down to her thighs. He looks at her. _Fuck_ , she's so hot, he can't believe his luck.

"Are you gonna do a handstand now?" he asks. She makes a huffing noise, like she's really out of breath.

"Just -" she starts and then she grabs him and flips them over so she's on top of him. "- shut - up!" She kisses him again. And then her hands get him distracted from making any comeback.

He ends up sitting against the pillows, his hands on her hips as she maintains the rhythm. Her eyes are half-closed and whenever she leans her head backwards and moans, she slips out of his clear vision and becomes a little blurry. Her fingers are digging into his shoulders, and Paul has long lost the ability to form coherent sentences. All he can say is _Emma_ , and enjoy whenever she responds with _Paul._

He doesn't have much experience when it comes to sex, he isn't someone with many hook-ups behind him. But he knows that it doesn't get better than this. He knows that Emma is _excellent!_ She gets him completely unraveled every time, gets him so far out he shouldn't be able to handle more, and yet he is ready to beg for it. For another kiss, another chance to touch her.

He moves a hand from her hip to her neck and pushes her into a bruising kiss, holding onto her tightly.

_"Paul_ -" she moans, resting her forehead against his. She's gasping for air as she picks up the pace.

"Emma - _fuck_ -" he pants, still holding onto her neck, "- _you're so - fucking beautiful."_ The words tumble from his mouth, and he wonders how this full sentence has managed to hide in there all along. He doesn't know if saying things like that is against the rules, but if it is, Emma doesn't complain. She just kisses him again.

Afterwards they lie on the bed, Emma with her head against his shoulder. Her fingers are tapping playfully against his stomach. Paul feels boneless and ready to fall asleep again, but he knows she has to leave soon. Luckily she has enough things here, so doesn't need to go home first. It's too soon, when she moves away from him, and he immediately misses her warm frame pressed against him. She pauses on the edge of the bed, only to kiss him one more time, before heading into the shower.

Paul wants to join her, but their morning "acrobatics" mean she can't waste more time. He knows her schedule by now. He knows how long she takes to get dressed and get out the door. He rolls onto the side and sighs. His bed smells like her. It's wonderful to be surrounded by _Emma_.

The shower stops, and he hears her move around. She steps out not long after, completely naked while towel-drying her hair. She begins talking about Zoey, her tall coworker, who apparently hired another theater friend, who likes to sing _Let It Go_. Paul puts on his glasses and pays attention as Emma slowly gets ready.

She spends a little extra time pinning up her hair, and then she crawls across his legs and gives him three big kisses. "Thank you for a lovely morning," she says and does an eyebrow waggle.

"Thank _you_ ," Paul says, immediately feeling a little stupid for saying it like that.

"I really gotta get outta here," Emma says, "that way I have time for a cup of coffee and a cold croissant before my shift."

"You are welcome to the food in my-" he is interrupted by another kiss.

"Thanks," she says, "but my plan is better."

"Okay," he says. She smiles. "Bye, Em."

"Bye, Paul," Another lingering kiss, and then she crawls down and walks out of the room. She stops by the door and waves. Paul watches her go, and his heart throbs when she disappears from view. He closes his eyes and sinks back in the pillows.

It's starting to hurt when she leaves. He misses her during the day. He thinks about her constantly. There is a gnawing thought at the back of his head, trying to tell him this is getting bad for him, but he ignores it. It's fine. He's fine. He remembers the first time he watched her leave, not knowing if he would ever see her again, aside from at Beanies. It's all so different now, but it's better, right?

So what if he loves her? He knows what the arrangement is and it's fine. He gets to see her often and he gets to kiss her and watch her come undone and he gets to wake up next to her. So it's all okay.

Okay.

* * *

Ever since telling Paul about Jane, Emma has felt strange. Okay, it's only been a few days, but still. Is this how everyone feels after being emotionally vulnerable? Because if so, it's a hard pass from her. She feels restless and itchy, like there is something vital she has overlooked. Like there is something she has forgotten to do. It's uncomfortable and annoying.

Paul had sent her a picture of the mug filled with coffee after she left on Sunday. It had made her smile, and then Zoey had been looking at her curiously, so she had put the phone away again. She's glad he is using the mug, and she's glad he doesn't seem like her confession changed his opinion of her. It's such a relief. His own family situation doesn't seem ideal either, so maybe he gets it?

During the week, he comes in to buy coffee like he normally does, and they exchange smiles and on Tuesday he manages to tip her five bucks without blushing. Emma desperately wants to make a joke about him paying for her other services, but Zoey is right there _and_ there is a line behind him. So she holds her tongue. Paul smiles like the dork he is, when she hands him the coffee.

After her shift on Wednesday, Emma considers going to see Jane. She hasn't been back since her failed attempt, and after telling Paul about everything, she is feeling the need to go. She walks to the nearby florist and buys a nice bouquet, and then she heads back to her car. The drive to the cemetery is still too short, leaving her to face everything too soon.

No, she wants to see Jane. She wants to go.

Emma heads up towards the grave, this time choosing to ignore her parents and go straight for Jane. She stops in front of it and looks down, letting out a deep sigh. Well, _fuck._ The reality of it all hits her yet again. Jane is gone and there is just this fucking stone with her name left. Emma feels tears prickling in her eyes and she fights them, lifting her hand to cover her mouth, like she can force the crying back inside.

"Jane, why is this so fucking hard?" she asks. She places the bouquet next to the new one from Tom and Tim. What is she supposed to say? _I miss you_. Is that normal to say? Does it matter? Is she supposed to imagine Jane can hear her? And if Jane could hear it, would she care whether or not Emma misses her?

"I'm supposed to come here and what? Grieve? Cry? Talk to you like you are still here?" she asks, hoping the answer appears. Maybe she _should_ cry? Just bawl her eyes out and hope it helps? It's not exactly appealing to stand on her own in a cemetery and cry. It would be nice to not be here alone. To have someone with her for support. She remembers the feeling of being hugged by Paul on Saturday night. If he were here, he'd wrap his arm around her shoulders in comfort. He would probably let her sob into his chest, if she needed to.

She doesn't want to cry though. She wants to feel less like a piece of shit, whenever she thinks about her sister.

She looks at the bouquet from Tom and Tim. It's so nice and pretty and probably Jane's favorite flowers, since they remember that kind of shit. She just picked nice colors, because she knows nothing about flowers. It's making her angry. They go once a week and Tom hasn't asked her to join them once! He doesn't have to ask every time, but wouldn't including her one time make fucking sense?

Emma sighs and tries to calm herself down. She's here for Jane. "Tim's a good kid," she says after a long pause, "he's gonna be okay. I like him."

She falls silent again, biting the nail on her thumb. Grief really fucking sucks. It doesn't have to be complicated on top of sad! Isn't sad enough? Emma glances at the other graves around her. Some has flowers and some doesn't. There is a pressure against her chest as she looks back at Jane's grave.

"I miss you," Emma says, "and I know that means shit, because I wasn't fucking there. But I always missed you, Janey."

If this was a movie, now would be the time where a wind would blow and make the leaves move, so Emma could feel like Jane responded. Nothing happens though. Emma wipes her eyes and then she mumbles a goodbye and heads back to her car.

She considers driving over to Paul's and getting another one of those good hugs, and maybe some kissing, but instead she drives towards Tom's house. She sits in the car for a moment after parking. She isn't sure why she's here. She's still angry he doesn't invite her along. Finally she gets out and stomps up to the house and knocks.

"Emma?" Tom looks confused, when he opens the door.

"Can I come in?" she asks.

"Yeah," he moves to let her in, still looking confused. "Tim's at a friend's."

"Good," Emma nods, walking in. She crosses her arms, but decides against it and uncrosses them again. "I was just at the cemetery."

" _Oh_ ," Tom says. She can see his eyes go a little wider as he realizes she's here because of Jane.

"We never really talked about her," Emma says, sort of hoping he will apologies or open up about it all. He stays silent. "I know I fucked up, with the whole staying away thing. I want to make things better. She's - she was - I loved her. I still do."

"Sure didn't feel like it," Tom says, "when you missed the wedding and Tim being born. Or when you didn't support her through losing your parents."

"I know," Emma says, trying her best to stay calm. Trying to meet him halfway. "I want to take responsibility for that. But fuck, I am alone in my grief and -"

Tom stares at her as she fights back tears. His eyes can really look wide and crazy. He doesn't say more. Emma hates that. She hates that he's so silent and gruff. What goes on in his fucking head?!

"Listen, you can hate me if you want. It doesn't change the fact that the three of us are the only people left who really fucking love her. So, if you gotta yell at me or tell me I am a piece of shit before you can let me be a part of your life and your grief, then have at it! I just can't take any more of this indifference!" She's angry now, her breath uneven and hands shaking.

"I lose my wife, the mother of my son, and then her estranged sister comes to town and decides she wants to be a family. How the hell am I supposed to trust that you'll stay? That you won't hurt Tim, like you hurt Jane?" Tom's getting angry too. Emma winces at his words. The truth cuts through her like a blade. As always, when people hurt her, she yells back.

"I don't know how the fuck you want me to prove it?! I came back. I got a steady job, I'm in school. I'm trying my goddamn best to be less flighty! So stop being an asshole and cut me a _little_ slack!"

"What happens in a few months, Emma? What if you lose the job, or fail a class? Don't tell me you won't want to run away again?" he asks, clearly familiar with her problems in school before leaving.

"I really fucking care about Tim," Emma says, unable to come with anything else, "I am not saying we should have weekly brunch and buy matching pajamas. I am saying that we are all three still grieving her and we should _all_ lean on each other!" Tom huffs instead of replying, so she exhales through her nose. "I am not fucking going anywhere! So get used to it!"

"I think you should leave now, Emma," Tom says and his voice is so calm, it almost frightens her.

"I just told you I'm not-"

"I heard you. I need to think," he says. He gestures for the door, and after watching him for a moment, Emma turns and leaves the house. She isn't sure this was a good idea, but it's too late now. It's done.

At least he said he would think?

Not that she's very hopeful he will come to the right conclusion.

For once she doesn't contact Paul. Normally she would use sex to take her mind of this, but she feels too vulnerable, too raw to see Paul right now. Instead she drives home, and throws herself onto her bed and cries. Cries because this is all fucked up. Cries because she misses her sister. Cries because she has been holding it back for too long.

* * *

Paul has been anxiously awaiting seeing Emma again all week. She left Sunday morning, and seeing her in Beanies isn't enough anymore. He needs more, he needs to be closer to her. It's becoming a bit of a distraction problem at work. Since they usually see each other on either Friday or Saturday, Paul agrees to go get a beer when they are done with work on Friday. Melissa is excited, tugging at his arm when he agrees.

In the end they all go. Bill, Ted, Charlotte, Melissa and Paul. They go to the bar, where he first met Emma. Ted orders them all drinks, and Paul settles for the dark and stormy, even though he would have preferred a beer. Melissa quickly falls into conversation with a woman, and Paul suspects they are flirting, even though he isn't the best at reading body language.

Ted and Charlotte are talking again, after two weeks of awkward tension. They go outside to smoke several times.

"I am so behind on their relationship situation," Paul tells Bill, who is drinking a strawberry daiquiri. For once. Paul is certain Bill intends to not drink much more than the one drink. Even if Alice is back in Clivesdale.

"So am I," Bill says, before sending Paul a look, "I'm also behind on _yours._ "

" _Mine_?" Paul squeaks. Bill nods, smiling knowingly. "I don't - I - what - I don't have any -"

"Don't lie to me," Bill says, "you check your phone much more than usual. You come into work in the same suit as the day before. You seem _happy._ "

Paul is about to ask if he didn't seem happy before, but stops himself. That's a loaded question and not necessarily an answer he wants to hear. "Bill," he just says, his tone soft.

"You can tell me," Bill says and smiles.

"Y'know, the barista from Beanies?" Paul says. Bill's jaw drops.

"You're dating the barista and you didn't tell me?" he sounds surprised but also a little offended. "You have been pining after her for ages! And you don't tell _me_ about dating her!"

"Bill, keep it down," Paul says, "we're not dating, we're just... _well_." He promptly blushes as he tries to find the right way to describe what they are doing.

"I can't keep up with you young people," Bill says, as if he is much older than Paul. "You're sleeping together?"

Paul nods. "It's a secret, I think. She's made it pretty clear it's not dating."

Bill frowns, but before he can reply, Ted and Charlotte join them and Paul sends him a warning look. He doesn't want them to know about Emma. Bill gives him a small nod in understanding.

"What are you nerds talking about?" Ted asks.

"Alice," Bill replies and Ted rolls his eyes.

"You both need a hobby," he says. "More to drink? Yes?" Then he turns to walk to the bar. Charlotte does a weird little jump and Paul suspects Ted's hand got adventurous as he passed her.

"Sam is working late tonight," Charlotte says, sitting down next to Bill. "He promised to focus more on therapy next week. So that's going to really help."

They both nod, feeling weird when they know she's most likely going home with Ted later. Paul wants to say something, tell her Sam is no good, but he knows she won't listen. It really sucks. He sips more of his drink.

"Paul," Charlotte says, "how's Lettuce?"

"She's doing great," Paul grins, taking any chance to talk about her. "She's enjoying running around outside a lot. She has a new habit of sleeping next to me in bed, instead of in her own bed, but I don't mind. It's nice to wake up to." He finds a few pictures he took of her outside and shows them to Charlotte.

Ted returns with a load of drinks. Paul has almost finished his first one, and decides one more won't hurt. The four of them talk, quickly beginning to discuss whether or not Mr. Davidson watches porn during work hours. Charlotte is team _no_ , and Ted is a loud member of team _yes_. Bill seems to change his mind back and forth a bit. Paul has to agree with Ted, which earns him a high-five and a pat on the shoulder. He sips from his drink and smiles to himself. They are all four very gossipy and he likes hanging out with them like this.

* * *

Emma is sitting at home, eating noodles and watching something dumb on Netflix. Going to see Jane and then confronting Tom didn't help with the weird restless feeling in her system. She wants to text Paul, but something is stopping her. She puts her bowl down and stretches out. She kind of misses Lettuce. It's not like she's a big cat person, but a snuggly friend like her would be pretty nice on days like this.

Zoey had apologized again for not going out, having plans with the gross cop. Emma isn't really sure why Zoey thinks they are _going out buddies._ She gets interrupted by a text and perks up. She has butterflies as she grabs the phone, expecting to see Paul's name. To her surprise it's Tom. _Huh_. She opens the message.

_Emma. I thought about what you said. While trusting you 100 % is still hard, I agree that we three share the grief. I realize you have been alone in yours. On Thursday next week, we bring her flowers and if you want to come, you are welcome._

It feels a little like a drop on a rollercoaster. Emma gets a few tears in her eyes and lets out a shaky breath. _Wow_. _Okay_. _Wow_. She replies with a thank you and that she understands his reluctance and that she wants to join them.

She has officially made progress!

She smiles in relief. Clearly her old teachers were wrong and you _can_ accomplish things by yelling at people! This is such good news. Her heart feels light and fluttery. She wants to celebrate! Maybe with wine or some chocolate?

No.

Paul. She wants to celebrate by seeing Paul! Why hadn't she written him earlier today? It's Friday and _of course_ she wants to see him! She texts him and asks what he is up to. Not long after he replies that he is out with his coworkers but would like to see her.

She smiles and offers to pick him up. She'd much rather be at his house anyway.

While she waits for a response, she cleans up after her dinner. His answer is just _yes!!_ so she packs up and gets ready to go. She puts on her denim jacket, but doesn't bother to change out of her old t-shirt and loose, blue shorts. There is a spring in her step as she heads to her crappy car. She can't believe she made progress! Tom listened to her!

There is a few people outside the bar, and she spots Paul amongst them. They make eye contact and he walks after her, as she parks a little further down the street. He crawls into her car and leans over and presses a slightly sloppy kiss against her lips.

"How many drinks have you had?" Emma asks.

"Just three," Paul says, and then he giggles. _Cute._ She puts on the radio as they drive, and tries to avoid being distracted by the way he taps his fingers against his thigh to the music. Once they are out of the car, he kisses her again, just as sloppily as before.

"If you wanted car sex, we didn't have to drive to your house," Emma jokes. Paul laughs.

"You're funny," he says.

Inside she makes him eat a bit of bread, before they head up to the bedroom. He is unbuttoning his shirt as they walk up the stairs, and he places it in the hamper, while Emma leaves her shoulder bag near the foot of the bed. She turns towards Paul to smile, considering telling him about Tom's message and the progress. Before she can, he's kissing her urgently and pushing her towards the bed. She hits the back of her legs against the edge and nearly falls backwards. Paul's arms keep her from falling.

The way he kisses her and holds her tightly against him, is making her body respond and she can't help the needy noise that escapes her throat. He is so good at this and he knows what she likes. Her hands trail down his shoulders and back, all the way to his ass. Then she pushes them up under his t-shirt and lifts it over his head, momentarily breaking the kiss. Paul watches her for a moment, so she trails her fingertips down his chest and stomach. He's really fucking hot without clothes on.

It almost surprises her to think of him like this, since she has mostly thought of him as cute before, but she doesn't have time to dwell on it, because his hands are back on her body. She moves him around, so he is against the bed, and he sits down, pulling her with him. They lie down on the bed, and he has one hand in her hair, messing it up, and the other on her ass, pressing her down against him. Emma moans into his mouth and rolls her hips to create friction. It lures a deep noise out of him.

Paul suddenly flips them around, kissing her harder, with more need. His hands find her arms and he wraps his fingers around her wrists. Then he pins her wrists above her head.

_"Fuck,_ Paul-" she moans, taken by surprise. She's not sure what she expected the sex to be like tonight, but it wasn't this. Three drink Paul is bold and sexy, it seems. They remain like this for a while, as the kissing grows needier and Emma gets more and more impatient for him to touch her again. She writhes against him.

Finally he begins trailing kisses down her neck, sucking a little on her pulse point. He lets go of her wrists when he can't get any further down, instead trailing his hands over her chest and giving a her nipples a gentle pinch through her shirt and bra. Emma tries to control her breathing as the anticipation and impatience grows with each kiss and nip against her, as Paul moves further and further down.

He looks up at her, as his hands begin to remove her shorts, as always checking if she wants him to continue. Emma nods and smiles and then lets out a shaky breath, as the clothes move down her legs. He kisses the inside of her thigh, moving upwards and she curses under her breath.

" _Fuck,_ Paul, you're not even gonna take of my shirt fir-" she stops as his fingers tighten against her thighs and his breath dances across her skin.

When she's hoarse from crying out and feeling dizzy and boneless, he crawls back up and gently pushes her hair away and kisses her. "You're stupidly good at that," she says when she has found her voice. "I think I lost count." He smiles sheepishly and flattered and kisses her collarbone. Emma swallows as she tries to regain enough control of her muscles to be able to flip him over and treat him a little too. He deserves it after that effort. _Yowza_. It'll take her a minute or two before she's ready to move though.

_Okay, here we fucking go, Matthews!_

They both catch their breaths after what feels like a sex marathon. The bedroom is stuffy and warm, but Emma doesn't care. She's exhausted and a little sore in the best way. Everything feels good and comfortable. Paul is starting to get up, so Emma drapes herself over him to keep him down. "No getting up. Staying in bed." she says, snuggling her face into the crook of his neck. Her leg is over his thighs. He smells like sex, and his skin is still a little sticky. It's still incredibly comfortable to lie against him.

"I need to brush my teeth," Paul says and yawns, "if I keep lying here, I'm going to fall asleep." His arm wraps around her waist anyway. Emma smiles into his skin.

"In a minute," she says.

" _Mkay_ ," Paul mumbles into her hair. She can feel his chest rise and fall, and he already sounds like he's dozing off. Emma begins drawing little patterns on his chest. Just circles and squares, while she reflects over the past few weeks. It feels like so many things are beginning to work out. She has gotten closer to Tim, made progress with Tom and she's ending this semester with grades she can definitely be proud of. She's not going to be alone in her grief any more. She has a nephew, who genuinely seems to like her. And soon her brother-in-law might not hate her.

And then there's Paul. Who's always there, when she needs him. Who continues to blow her mind in bed. Who has remarkably blue eyes and looks at her softly and lets her have this arrangement exactly how she wants. She told him about Jane because he listens, because she trusts him, because she likes being near him, because...

Emma sits up abruptly.

_Wait a fucking second._

_This can't be right?_

She looks at Paul. His cute round jaw is slack, and he's breathing slow. His eyes are closed and his plush lips are slightly parted. He looks peaceful and happy. Emma's pulse remains fast and fluttery as she looks at him, and she has to fight a smile at the sight. Her hand is still on his chest, as if the physical contact keeps her grounded. As if she needs to be close to him.

_Oh_

Fuck _no_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!! Things are happeniiiiiing... :D :D :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo, can you believe THIS chapter was what started the whole fic? yep, all 8 chapters before was just a build-up, so I could write THIS. I have no self control, y'all...

Emma stares at him in shock.

She likes him? She _likes_ him! And not just in a friendship way. The thought leaves her scared and she lifts her hand from his chest to run through her hair. How the fuck did this happen? Somehow along the way, it changed from 'sex with Paul makes her feel better' to _'Paul_ makes her feel better'.

This fucking beanpole, with his corporate job and suburban house, has somehow made her fall for him! What the actual fuck!? For a moment she gets incredibly angry at Paul. So angry, she almost pinches him awake, but luckily manages to stop herself. What would she say? Fuck you for making me like you?? How dare you be nice and patient and attractive and funny and cute and _oh crap_ , she looped around to praising him.

Emma crawls out of bed, grabs her bag of toiletries and walks into the bathroom. She's gross from the day and all the sex, so she turns on the shower. As the water hits her scalp and runs down her body, she closes her eyes and sighs. How the fuck can she _like_ him?

She thinks about when he touched her hair after listening to her talk about Jane. The way her stomach fluttered and she felt so close to him and comfortable. How she fell asleep against him later. _Ugh_ , it's gross and clingy and... and _girly._ She presses shampoo into her hand and angrily applies it into her hair. This really can't be fucking happening. She can't have feelings for Paul!

No, no, no! This is just about sex! She is not some girl, who developes feelings just because she's had sex with him for a while.

This is just about the great sex and nothing else. She repeats it again.

 _Yeah_ , she can refocus on the sex part. On using the sex when she needs a distraction. It can work again. Maybe this is just a moment of weakness, since he literally just treated her to more orgasms than she could keep track off?

She nods to herself as she rinses out her hair. This makes sense. She was probably just happy because of the text from Tom, so it doesn't mean anything. She applies a bit of conditioner into the tips of her hair as she tries to convince herself it's a fluke. It's nothing. She imagines washing all the feelings down the drain.

She's okay.

She steps out of the shower, dries herself with a towel, before wrapping it around her hair. She forces herself to use her face cream, and not skip it, and then she begins brushing her teeth. The door opens behind her and she turns around.

Paul is walking into the bathroom, completely naked, blinking sleepily at her. "I fell asleep," he says in a low voice, sounding surprised. Her heart speeds up.

"I noticed," Emma says, for once feeling at a loss for words. _Oh my God,_ she thinks to herself, as she watches him rub his eyes adorably, _I think I like you_.

"I'm glad you came over," he says. All her resolve from the shower has disappeared again. _Fuck._

She looks back down at the sink, brushing her teeth a little more aggressively. They're just standing there in silence, brushing their teeth, while being completely naked. It's so domestic and casually intimate and she can't believe she hadn't noticed her feelings earlier.

She bends over and dries her hair with the towel, before hanging it up to dry. She walks back to his bed and sits down, reminding herself over and over that she's here for the sex and nothing more. Paul comes back way too soon, he must have skipped his floss and mouthwash routine for once. _Ugh, gross,_ why does she know this?

He crawls under the covers and she follows his lead. "Goodnight, Em," he murmurs into the dark room and her heart does a weird clenching thing. She moves over, so she can rest the side of her face against his warm chest. She fits perfectly right next to him and she feels incredibly comfortable. She closes her eyes as his arm wraps around her. _Oh fuck, I think I like you_.

* * *

Paul has one of those mornings, where he wakes up slowly. Just becoming more and more aware of his surroundings, first the sense of comfort, then the scent of his bedroom and Emma, then the way his face is buried into the pillow and the feeling of Emma's body pressing up against him. Finally the light from outside creeping through his eyelids.

Emma sounds like she's asleep. They are spooning, which he doesn't even remember doing last night. It means he is currently pressed up against her naked body, particularly pressed against her ass and suddenly a part of him is _very_ awake. Paul's arm is draped over her side, touching the mattress in front of her. He moves backwards a little, lifting his arm off her. He feels a little woozy after drinking last night, but he doesn't have a hangover. _Thank God_.

Emma makes a noise when he has moved away from her, and she rolls around, so they are chest to chest and their bodies are touching again.

"Morning," Paul murmurs, and she blinks up at him.

" _Shhh_ ," she says, and then her mouth is on his. Paul makes a noise in surprise as Emma's hand lands on his neck. He kisses her back, gently placing a hand on her waist. They both sigh into the kiss, and then Emma deepens it.

Paul hums under his breath, while her hand trails slowly down his back, her nails barely scratching him. She moves closer up against him, and chuckles. She's clearly noticed his arousal. Her kiss grows hungrier, her mouth opening and her hand settles on his hip. She moves her thumb back and forth across his hipbone, making him impatient to be touched more.

He feels lightheaded as she pulls him on top of her. He is so intoxicated by her, he wonders if he's still drunk. Emma finds a condom in his drawer, clearly not wasting any time. As always he gets swept away in the feeling of her, the way she moves underneath him and the way she moans and whispers his name. He finds her hand with his own, intertwining their fingers. Then he moves them above her head and presses her hand into the mattress.

Emma lets him shower alone, since she apparently washed her hair last night, when he had fallen asleep. God, he had really been such a guy, rolling over and dozing off right after.

He gets dressed in his casual clothes and joins Emma in the kitchen. She's staring out the window and almost jumps when he joins her. "Hey," she says. Paul notices her shoulder bag is on her usual kitchen chair.

"You already packing up?" he asks and hopes he manages to hide the disappointment in his voice. He has started to like their mornings together a lot.

"Yeah I should head home. Got a lot to do this weekend," she says, not looking directly at him.

"Right," he nods, ignoring the small throb in his heart. He looks outside and suddenly remembers his car is back at work. _Dammit_! "Could you maybe give me a ride? My car is still at work," he asks, feeling sheepish. This time she does look at him and after a second she nods.

"Sure," she says, "I need to buy a new notebook, I can do that downtown."

"Great," Paul says. Then they stare at each other for a moment. Emma clears her throat and walks over to grab her bag. Paul gathers his things and then he follows her out.

They listen to the radio on the way. Emma parks behind Beanies and they walk in the same direction down the street. It's warm outside and not many people are out walking yet. When they get near the office, Paul audibly sighs. Standing on the street is a young woman with a greenpeace smock. Paul hates when he has to get out of these situations. He's terrible at it. Emma is looking at her phone, and hasn't realized they are in immediate danger to be flagged down.

"Hi, would you like to save the planet?" the girl says, sounding both cheerful and demanding.

"Uh _no_ \- not right-" Paul starts, but she interrupts him.

"It'll only take a minute, it's for _the planet_ ," she says and her tone is very condescending. Paul opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Emma cuts in.

"Hey, he said _no_." Emma's arms are crossed and she has a no-nonsense attitude.

"Okay, _gheez_ ," the girl says, lifting her hands, like she thinks they are overreacting.

"Nice day," Emma says through her teeth, grabbing Paul by the arm and pulling him with her. When they are out of earshot, Paul stops and looks down at Emma, his heart in his throat. He kisses her before he has thought it through. When he pulls back, he realizes it might be against the rules.

"Thanks - I can never get them to back off," he says, feeling embarrassed. Emma smiles softly and pats his arm.

"You're too nice," she says. She squeezes his arm and then they continue walking, until Paul can see his office building.

"Well, that's me," he says and smiles. Emma looks at him for a moment.

"See ya," she says and then she begins to walk away, only to turn back around and give him a quick kiss. Paul watches her go, before heading over to his car. It's been a strange morning.

* * *

It's been two long days after realizing she likes Paul. She went home and watched _Always Sunny_ and tried to forget things. It worked until she suddenly got this disgusting urge to text Paul one of the jokes. The same night she considered going out to a bar and to find some random dude to have sex with. The thought of it made her feel gross, so she just had a glass of whiskey and went to bed.

She tries to convince herself that she's blowing things out of proportion. Just because she likes being around him and doesn't want to bang someone else and kissed him goodbye doesn't mean she's head over heels or anything. She's just fond of him. It's fine.

But now it's Monday, and she's working with Zoey and Nora and it's a surprisingly slow day. Zoey goes into the break room, leaving her alone and Emma rolls her eyes and refills the sugar packs. Someone enters the store, and when she looks up, her heart does a ridiculous thumping thing she'll never tell a soul about. It's Paul, in his usual corporate outfit. He smiles at her, all wide and genuine and Emma can't help but return it. He looks good, although he must be sweating in the jacket.

"Hi," he says, stepping closer.

"What can I get you?" Emma asks, already moving over to the pot with black coffee.

"A cup of black coffee and an iced caramel frappe." Paul gestures towards the window with his head and Emma spots the friend standing outside. She nods and makes the orders, adding a bit extra caramel for the friend. Paul watches her work . "Not a lot of customers today?" he comments.

"Nah," Emma says, moving over to him again, just as he tips her five bucks. She can't help smiling. He is too cute. "Here you go." She says, and types the order into the register. Paul hands her the money and their fingers brush as she takes them.

"Thanks," he says softly. His eyes move like he scans the room, and then in a lower voice he says, "I think Lettuce misses you."

"I miss her too. A little," Emma chuckles, " So-"

"See you later," Paul interrupts, grabbing his orders. He seems weird. Evasive. Emma's pulse quickens. For some fucking reason she has the urge to kiss him goodbye. It throws her off completely.

"I'll text you - or you can text me - maybe - I can text -" she stumbles over her words as Paul's blue eyes watch her in confusion and a hint of concern. _Fuck_. She's being weird. "See you." she finally says and tries to smile normally. Paul nods and then he turns and leaves. She watches him go.

What the hell just happened?! She watches him through the window as he hands the frappe to his friend.

Then she turns around, coming face to face with Zoey, who's leaning against the door and watching her with amusement. "What the fuck was that, Emma?"

_Crap!_

"Nothing," she lies, and brushes past Zoey into the break room. Nora looks at them, before making a noise with her tongue and walking out to the counter.

"You're totally lying," Zoey says. Emma has hidden her face into the dishwasher, hoping she isn't blushing. If nothing else, she can say she's red because she had her head down.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Emma says through her teeth, while she tries to lift as many cups as possible.

"You act like you spent the whole weekend banging him," Zoey says.

"I do not!" Emma objects, looking up. Zoey sends her steely gaze, not breaking eye contact. Dammit, she must have some weird Jedi skills. " _Fine_. Yes, we're banging."

The satisfied grin that spreads across Zoey face is too fucking annoying. "I knew it! You got chummy at that bar and I could just tell."

"Wow, great deduction, Sherlock," Emma mumbles, placing the mugs on a tray.

"So what just happened? Why did you sound like a nerd trying to ask out her crush?" Zoey asks.

"I don't know!" Emma groans and buries her head in her hands. Why is this happening? And why is Zoey the person she can confide in? "I just started having these _feelings_ recently. I used to feel on top of this sex thing and now I miss him and - and - _that_ out there happened!"

"It's because you get attached by having sex," Zoey says knowingly. Emma looks up at her, doubt probably visible on her face. "It's true. Basic biology. Whenever you have sex, you release oxytocin which is a hormone that, like, bonds you to him."

Emma gives her a dead look. "Are you saying... this is happening because of my _woman brain_?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Zoey nods and sits up more perkily. "There is nothing you can do. He has the power now."

"That's bullshit," Emma says, "I am not gonna be some girl, who falls for a guy just because we have sex. And he sure as fuck doesn't have 'the power'." She does quotation marks and Zoey grins.

"What's he like in bed?" she asks, leaning forward. _Why does she wanna know?_

"You know, he doesn't look like much," Emma says, unable to stop herself from smirking, "but he is fucking spectacular."

"Are you just saying that because you like him?" Zoey asks with a grin, like she just caught her in a lie.

"No," she shakes her head, "Friday night I lost count. Like... he just went to town."

" _Huh_. Black coffee guy," Zoey nods to herself, clearly impressed.

"Are you sure it's just a hormone getting released?" Emma asks, not willing to accept the explanation. Zoey nods. " There should be some sort of precaution to avoid it happening. Like, condoms that prevent these feelings." They both chuckle.

"You're so dramatic, Emma," Zoey says. She gets up and walks out, obviously not bringing out the tray of clean mugs. Emma rolls her eyes.

She could be onto something with the precautions. Just thinking about Paul smiling at her makes her pulse quicken. There should exist spermicidal lubricant to kill the fluttering in her heart. _Yeah_. She could really use an IUD that could stop stupid images of them together from appearing in her mind!

Emma sighs and goes back outside with the tray of clean mugs.

* * *

Paul sits on his couch after work. It's a warm Monday evening and he's scratching Lettuce while looking at his phone. He thinks back on the conversation he had with Bill on the way back from Beanies.

"So how is the thing with the barista?" Bill had asked, sipping his frappe. Paul had sighed.

"Her name is Emma," he had replied, "it's good - and bad. I really like her."

"How often do you see her?" Bill had asked, looking a bit concerned.

"Once or twice a week," Paul had answered, "Saw her this Friday and then she left a bit abruptly on Saturday morning. Today she seemed weird when I left. Telling me to text her and then she seemed like she was changing her mind."

"I don't understand the thing you are doing, but you should text her," Bill had said and smiled, "if you want to spend time with her, then do it."

Those words run circles in his head. He could just text her. She told him to, kind of. It's perhaps a bit soon after last time, but they hadn't talked much last time, and he genuinely misses talking to her. "What do you think, Lettuce?" he asks. She looks at him and meows. Paul smiles.

He looks back at the messages and then he types out _wanna come over_? and sends it. Then he turns on the TV, flipping through the channels and ends up on some cooking show. After a while Emma replies _I'll be there in 45 minutes._

Paul feels a sense of relief. He watches the cooking show, only paying attention half of the time. He is excited to see her and talk to her. When it's around the time she should show up, he gets up and grabs them two beers from the fridge and places them on coasters on the table.

Lettuce meows and gets up and stretches. Then she jumps over to the window sill and curls up. Paul is about to take a picture of her, when he hears Emma walk through the door. He yells a _hey_ and gets up to go meet her. She appears in the doorway to the living room, dressed in denim shorts and a t-shirt. Her hair is in a half bun, with loads of hair falling in waves around her shoulders. Paul smiles as she begins to walk towards him.

"Hi - how was your day?" he asks, as she stops right in front of him.

"Shut up," Emma says, and pulls him into a greedy kiss. Paul makes a noise in surprise. _Oh it's one of these days._ He kisses her back, letting himself fall into the Emma abyss and lose all sense of time and space. She's a woman on a mission and they are quickly sprawled out on the couch.

* * *

Paul had texted her and she immediately had wanted to go. It was stupid, how much a simple text made her heart leap in her chest. On the whole way there, she had told herself it was about sex and nothing else. That their relationship was just physical. She was not supposed to fall, to have these feelings. She had reminded herself of that just before she walked through the door.

But now, as she's on top of Paul on the couch, her hands on the armrest, while she tries to fuck all the feelings away, and Paul's hand and mouth is on her chest, touching and kissing her, she is overcome with the need to see his face, to look into his eyes. She sits up a little straighter and places her hands on his chest and pushes him down, so he is more horizontal. Paul's beautiful blue eyes look up at her through slightly heavy lids. He smiles, as he pushes some hair behind her ear.

Emma bites her lip as she rocks her hips, just to see the look on Paul's face. His eyelids flutter and he cranes his neck backwards. She leans forward, cupping his face an pulling it towards her. "Look at me," she says, her voice hoarse and breathy. Paul does as he is told. Her pace goes slower, as their eyes lock. Emma grabs Paul's hand, her fingers tightening around his wrist while she pushes it into the pillow behind him.

For a while all her worries about feelings disappear. All that exist is them. Paul's eyes, his hand on her hip, his wrist in her hand, their lips as they meet, their bodies as they move together perfectly. Paul's eyes doesn't leave hers, and it's the first time she feels okay with being seen so openly. And she manages to feel even warmer when he cries out _Emma._

She flops down dramatically on his chest, and snuggles against him. Paul moves a little, so she slides down between him and the back of the couch. He lifts her hand and kisses the inside of her wrist before placing it against his chest and covering her hand with his own.

It's warm, so they don't get cold, even though they are naked. Paul is tracing patterns on her back with his fingertips. Emma closes her eyes. She can practically feel the oxytocin creeping through her brain, making her want to keep Paul closer and closer. Giving her soft images of bringing him along to imaginary family arrangements. Facing Tom and all of that with Paul's hand on the small of her back, giving her silent support. Him picking her up at work and her kissing him hello in front of Nora and Zoey and not giving a damn.

As her heartbeat slows down to normal and Paul's breathing calms down, the warm pictures disappear and leave her with uncertainty and confusion.

"I'm glad you came over, with such short notice," Paul says. Emma looks at him. "I mean I always am. For this stuff."

 _Right._ "Me too," Emma says, not sure what else to say. They fall silent for a while. Emma tries to convince herself to get up and leave, even though all she wants is to stay against him for the rest of the night. Why did she get all mushy and want to look in his eyes? Why couldn't she just focus on what was going on between her thighs?

"Oh my God!" Paul says suddenly, turning his head, "we had sex in front of Lettuce!"

Emma laughs, unable to stop herself. _Oh my God,_ "Do you think she cares?" _I think I like you._

 _"_ I honestly don't know," Paul chuckles, before grimacing. He lifts her wrist and kisses it again. Her heart thumps faster. She lies back down again. This is a problem. A big problem.

She's so fucking screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was FILLED with quotes and nods to the song that inspired this fic.  
> Poor Emma. And poor Paul. 
> 
> I hope you liked this! I love y'all and your support. You really are the best!!  
> Only two more chapters left!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY FOR THE WAIT. there was internship, a hiking vacay and a sore throat that won't go away. (Don't worry, it's not covid).

Emma didn't want to spend the night, and even though they kissed loads before she left, Paul had still felt like something was up. She seemed like she was closing up again, not letting him in any more. Like she was disappearing between his hands. While they had been having sex, she had been looking into his eyes and he had felt like they connected on a deeper level, but afterwards something had been _off._ He has been distracted all day because of this feeling. He doesn't know what to do. He's worried he'll scare her off if he tries to hold on tighter.

He's currently standing in Bill's kitchen, peeling enough potatoes for a whole dinner party while Bill marinates the meat. There is a can of beer next to him. He glad he has his friend to lean on. They talk a bit about work, as always slipping into the office gossip. Things seem a little weird between Ted and Charlotte again. Ted has been lurking by the water cooler a lot, staring at her.

When food is in the oven, they take their beers into the living room and sit down.

"How are things with the barista?" Bill asks.

"There isn't anything new," Paul says, completely unable to keep his voice from sounding sad.

"Are you okay?" Bill sounds concerned.

"I don't really know," he answers earnestly, "I - fuck - I love her."

"Paul," Bill says, a gentle look in his eyes, "I didn't know it was this strong." Before Paul answers, they can hear the front door open.

" _Hi!_ " the sound of Alice's voice carries from the hall. She appears in the doorway, grinning. "Paul!"

"Alice, I didn't know you were home," Paul says, unable to fight the smile on his face. It's always great to see Alice.

"It's summer vacation, so I came over to visit Deb. Then Dad said you were having dinner with him, so I wanted to join," she explains, "anyway, I'm gonna shower and then I'll be down." She turns on her heel and walks back upstairs.

When she's out of earshot, Paul looks back at Bill. "It just hit me recently. I don't know what to do."

"What happened?"

It's a tough question. He has been falling harder and harder this whole time. He can't pinpoint the moment it turned into love. He can only say when he realized. "She bought me a mug," he says with a defeated smile, "it's so dumb and silly and not important. But she said she had to buy it for me and suddenly I just knew."

Bill is smiling. "That's sweet. So she must like you?"

"I don't think she does, yesterday I texted her and she came over, and she seemed so distant. Well, after - _uh_ -" he coughs. Amusement gleams in Bill's eyes.

"Right," he nods, "how do you mean distant?"

"Just - I don't know. She had started telling me about herself recently. But yesterday she closed off." Paul can't explain it. He could just see in her eyes that something was different.

" _Oh_ ," Bill says, "well, maybe she had a bad day or something is on her mind. It doesn't have to be about you."

"Maybe," Paul shrugs. Bill asks a few more questions, and Paul tries to elaborate on their relationship without slipping into the more personal details. It means he has to skip the first many times he saw her. Alice appears in the door and Paul's voice trails off as she walks in and sits down next to her dad.

"What are we talking about?" she asks, looking between them.

" _Uh_ -" Paul looks at Bill, not sure what to say. There is no help from him. Bill's eyes have gone round and he looks like his brain has frozen. "I have -" Paul starts, and Alice looks at him curiously, " - girl problems."

" _Awww_ , did you get your first period?" Alice asks, tilting her head to the side. Paul chokes on his laugh as Bill's head snaps up.

"Alice!" he exclaims.

"What, Dad?" she asks, a hint of challenge in her tone.

"Nothing." Bill shakes his head.

"What girl is causing you problems?" Alice turns her attention towards Paul.

"The barista. Emma," he answers.

"Right, of course," Alice smiles, "tell me about the problem."

"That's okay," Paul says, just as Bill clears his throat.

"Really? You're not gonna ask me for help?" she crosses her arms. "I am the perfect person to ask. I am a girl _and_ I date girls. Well, just the one girl, but still. I have all the inside knowledge."

Bill sends Paul a look, like he used to when she was younger and did something annoying but cute. Paul fights a smile. "Okay, okay," he says, "tell me what to do."

"What's the problem?" she asks again. _Right_.

"I uh, I like her a lot. And we've been _hanging out_ these past two months. But she has said it isn't serious," he explains, hoping he is keeping it PG-13 enough for Bill.

"When was the last time she said that?" Alice asks.

"Uh, a while ago, but it was kind of the whole premise." Paul frowns. It has been a while. "She has recently been telling more about herself and, I guess, acting more like we're a couple."

"She bought him a mug," Bill adds and for some reason it makes Paul blush a little. Alice looks like she is thinking it over.

"I say go for it," she grins, "if you like her and she acts like she likes you then.. why not? I mean, when's the last time you felt like this?"

Bill is smiling encouragingly, clearly agreeing. Could they be right? He supposes the signals has been a bit mixed recently. Paul smiles at them. "Not ever, I think. I just don't wanna scare her off. She made things clear."

"Maybe he can do some grand gesture?" Bill suggests and Alice sits up straighter.

" _Oooh!_ " she's clearly excited by the prospect. "Flowers! A horse-carriage ride! _A serenade_!" she makes herself laugh with that last suggestion. Bill high-fives her and Paul rolls his eyes.

"I will not sing and dance," he says, "but you already knew that."

"You're so boring," Alice grins. Bill gets up to check on the food, and then he tells Alice to help make a salad. The moment Paul is left alone, he checks his phone. No messages from Emma. He sighs. He just likes her so much, this is really becoming a problem.

He knew this would happen when they started. He would grow attached and it would hurt. But actually falling in love? He hadn't anticipated that. Now she has been kissing him non-stop and confiding in him and it's kind of everything he wants, except for the fact that she doesn't return his feelings. He doesn't want to lose what they do have. Maybe Alice is right and he should go for it? Tell her how he feels?

They set the table for dinner and luckily they don't discuss Emma more. Paul hears about Alice's summer plans and how Deb is doing. Bill only looks slightly annoyed at how much Alice gushes about her girlfriend. The food is delicious, with a beautiful roast, potatoes baked in the oven, the salad Alice made and steamed green beans.

"How is the office romance going?" Alice asks.

"You tell her about that?" Paul looks at Bill.

"What? She's my daughter, I like talking to her about things." Bill shrugs. Alice grins at Paul like she won.

"They seem to be back on the more dramatic side. We don't know much." Paul stabs a potato as he speaks.

"You with your coffee shop romance and those two slow burn coworkers," Alice muses, "it's like a sit-com."

Paul rolls his eyes and chuckles. They talk about that time they went to the carnival and Paul and Alice ate too much and almost got sick. Paul apologizes to Bill _again_ for having to look after them both. After dinner they have tea, and Alice sends Paul a very satisfied smirk, immediately letting him know she placed a new word in their game. Paul scratches his forehead with his middle finger, so only she can see it, making her laugh. The little brat. He'll have to think of something embarrassing to tell Deb next time he sees her.

Finally he decides to head home and get some sleep. Or cuddle his cat. Maybe both. He hugs Bill, and they clap each other on the shoulder.

"Wait up!" Alice says and walks out with him, carrying a trash bag. She has put on a cropped sweatshirt and Paul wonders if it's Deb's.

"I'm glad you also joined," Paul says.

"Me too," she grins, "I gotta annoy my lame Uncle Paul, right?"

"Yep," he chuckles. She throws out the trash and pulls him into a hug.

"You got this," she says, "go get the girl!"

"I'll... work on it," he says, and Alice swats his arm.

"Chicken," she says. They grin at each other and then she runs back inside. Paul watches the house for a moment. He likes their evenings together just the three of them. They are something special. But, a little part of his brain is coming up with images of bringing Emma some time. He thinks they'd all get along. Although Bill might have to adjust to Emma's swearing and snark, but when the cooking started, they'd hit it off. Alice would immediately like her. Deb too, he supposes.

It's a nice image. Emma and Bill cooking, and her smiling at him. A part of his life. He smiles to himself and heads towards his car.

* * *

It's Thursday and Emma is waiting for Tom and Tim outside Beanies. She has a bouquet of flowers in her hand, and the soft breeze is playing with her hair. She has been ignoring the Paul problem while she prepared herself for today.

Tom's sedan parks next to the curb and she crawls in the back and puts her seatbelt on. Tim turns his head and smiles at her widely, and she returns it. They drive towards the cemetery and Emma feels a tightening in her chest. This is going to be strange. She hasn't really seen them grieve since the funeral. Aside from a gruff _hello,_ Tom doesn't speak. When they've parked, Emma climbs back out. Tim hurls himself at her, tightening his arms around her.

They walk up the gravel paths, and for once Emma takes in all the surroundings properly. The trees surrounding the area, with the leaves moving in the breeze, and the many gravestones and all the flowers and bushes. It's a small cemetery but it's pretty. Especially in the summer. Tom doesn't stop by her parents and Emma feels a sense of relief. She would hate to stand there and feel like she had to be sad, when she still can't feel much whenever she thinks about them.

They stop by Jane's grave. Tom kneels down and replaces the old bouquet with the new one. Tim crouches and places a pretty little rock by the stone. Emma can see a few others. She sniffles and tries to ignore the lump in her throat. Jane loved picking up pretty or funny-looking rocks. Tom and Tim seem to have a routine. After placing the things, Tom puts his hand on the stone and sighs.

"Hey J," he says, "this week I went to talk to the principal. Maybe I can have one class after summer. I don't know yet, but they are open for the possibility and - and I am too. I think." There is a gentleness in his tone Emma hasn't heard before. It's different to when he talks to Tim. Not more or less gentle, just different. "I tried making that pie you always made, but I messed it up. I gotta practice a lot more to be as good as you."

Tom pats Tim on the shoulder, when he is done, and then Tim pipes up. "Mom, this week I learned two new dinosaur facts and I went roller skating with Jack. Grace babysat me and made me eat green beans. Dad has promised to take me to Pizza Pete's this weekend, but I don't know how fun it'll be, when we can't shoot zombies."

Emma smiles, just as Tom glances up at her. "Do you always give her updates?" she asks.

"Yeah," Tom nods, "it's good to keep her in the loop."

"What happened this past week for you, Aunt Emma?" Tim asks, looking up at her with big eyes. _Shit_. What the fuck? What should she say?

"H-hey Janey," she begins, sniffling again. Tom stands up and moves, so she can sit down. She does, placing the bouquet and copying his move from earlier and touching the stone. It's cool underneath her fingertips. "This week I - I went to work like I always do. I got the last grades from this semester. They are pretty good. Can you believe I'm good at biology? I still can't. I -" she stops. Even though there is no way she'll mention Paul around the others, the desire to talk to Jane about him is suddenly clawing through her chest.

She would love to confide in her sister one last time. Hear Jane laugh lightheartedly, when she realized her rebellious little sister had fallen for some corporate nerd with a cat and a little house. Get roasted, but also get support. The weight of never having that ever drops on her, and she wobbles on her knees, while tears start streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, Janey. I'm so sorry," she mumbles as sobs shake through her and her hand drops from the stone.

Suddenly a hand lands on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. Tom doesn't speak, he just leaves the hand there, grounding her a little. This is what she needed to grieve. Emma continues to cry, not sure how to stop. Tim takes her hand at one point. The three of them remain like that for a while. Emma doesn't know how long.

The tears stop streaming down, and she wipes her cheeks with her free hand. Tom lets go of her shoulder and she looks over at Tim, who wraps her in a hug. He's just such a good kid. She stands back up and brushes dirt off her knees. Tom and Tim both tell her about a few more things.

"Bye, Mom, see you next week," Tim says and stands up.

"Goodbye J," Tom adds, kissing the tips of his fingers and brushing them against her name. They both take a step back and begin walking back to the car. Emma looks at the stone one last time.

"See you Janey," she murmurs and then she follows them. When she catches up, Tim takes her hand again. He hugs her outside the car. Before she can get in, Tom looks at her.

"You wanna grab something to eat?" he asks.

"Yeah," Emma nods. Tom drives them down to the local diner. They have greasy burgers and Emma orders a milkshake that's half-chocolate and half-strawberry. Tim is very fascinated with that order, constantly asking to taste it again.

"Drink your own milkshake, kid," Tom says.

"Fine." Tim rolls his eyes.

Even though they don't talk much, it still feels almost normal. Like they get along. Tom asks her a bit about her grades and she hears a bit more about him going slowly back to work. It's nice. Tim dips his fries in his milkshake and Tom and Emma say _just like your mom_ at the exact same time.

They share a smile, both of them remembering all the weird stuff Jane would eat together.

Tom insists on paying for the food and as they walk back to the car, Tim reminds her she promised to play with the water soakers. She promises to do so soon. They drop her off at Beanies, and Tom gives her a nod. "See you around, Emma."

"Thank you for inviting me. I needed this," she says, trying to be open. She messes with Tim hair as a goodbye, before crawling out of the door. She watches them drive off, waving and laughing when Tom honks. She can imagine how much that made Tim laugh.

She hopes they will bring her again.

She falls asleep halfway through the second episode of _Brooklyn 99_ and wakes up in the middle of the night on top of the covers. She closes her laptop and gets up to brush her teeth before stumbling back to bed. Not surprisingly, she feels like a zombie the next day. Zoey is giving her looks, and Emma tries to ignore it.

"How's loverboy?" she asks when Nora is out of earshot. Emma really hates that Zoey knows about all this.

"I don't know, haven't seen him," she replies, not looking up.

"I've never seen anyone be this mad over a crush before," Zoey laughs.

"The situation is a lot more nuanced than that," Emma grumbles. 

Paul doesn't show up today, and she's relieved and disappointed at the same time. She's sad because she likes seeing his dumb face, but she is relieved because she doesn't want to deal with everything.

"I m exhausted," Emma declares as her shift ends.

"Wanna go out and get plastered?" Zoey asks, "it is Friday after all."

"I don't know," Emma replies.

"Got plans with black coffee guy?" the teasing tone in her voice is very annoying.

"No, got any plans with much older cop guy?" Emma asks sharply.

"Nope, he had stuff to do, so I'm free to get drunk and flirt with hipsters," Zoey says. Emma thinks it over. They walk out of Beanies, leaving Nora alone with one of the annoying theater drones for the remaining open hours. They walk around the building, and Emma is about to say no to drinking, when she stops dead in her tracks.

A little down the road is Paul. He is standing next to a young woman with long hair and large glasses. They are in deep conversation. Paul hasn't noticed Emma. She can feel Zoey look at her, but she ignores it. Her heart is in her throat. Paul looks relaxed and in a good mood. He says something and grins. The woman laughs, tossing her hair backwards and touching his arm. Then she hooks her own arm around his and they walk down the street, away from Emma and Zoey.

Something is flaring inside her, loud and powerful. Her heart pounds painfully and her mouth is dry.

Paul -

What is -

The jealousy spreads through her body and she feels like she is shaking. Is she angry? Sad? Both? One thing is for sure: she does not like this feeling. She needs it gone right away.

She looks up at Zoey. "Okay, let's get wasted."

The usual sharpness in Zoey's eyes is gone, and she just nods.

* * *

Melissa slides up next to him, when he is by the water cooler. She smiles at him in a way Paul has begun to fear a little. Last time she smiled like that, he got way too drunk.

"Hi Paul," she says.

"What do you want?" he asks, giving her a look.

"Nothing," Melissa says innocently, "but I was wondering if you wanted to get bubble tea after work?"

"That sounds nice, yeah," Paul agrees, since it's non-alcohol.

"Awesome," she says, doing a little dance. "I don't have much work left, what about you?"

"Me neither," he replies. He had been considering heading to Beanies for afternoon coffee, but he decides to work a little harder now, so he can take off earlier with Melissa.

When they meet up by the door, Ted is standing next to her. Paul almost frowns. "I didn't know you were joining us," he says.

"Don't sound so disappointed," Ted replies. Melissa rolls her eyes. They head down to the bubble tea place, passing Beanies on the way. Paul glances inside and sees a glimpse of Emma handing coffee to someone. His heart does a little clench.

They order bubble tea and sit down at one of the small tables. Ted is trying to get Melissa to tell him if she has heard Mr. Davidson watch porn. Paul sips his tea, popping a bubble.

"So how are things with that girl, Paul?" Melissa asks, when Ted finally stops prying. Paul nearly chokes on one of the bubbles. He coughs and Melissa pats his back. Every opportunity to lie to Ted about there being a girl just went out the window.

"Well, aside from the fact that she doesn't want it to be serious, and I'm falling in love with her, pretty good," he answers. Melissa laughs before she can stop herself.

" _Oh_ ," she says and touches his arm.

"Is this the crabby barista, who doesn't date?" Ted asks. Paul nods.

"What are you going to do?" Melissa asks.

"I considered just waiting until she returns my feelings or stops wanting to see me," he replies jokingly. They both look at him with pity. _Crap_.

"Paul," Melissa's voice is gentle, "you should figure out what she feels."

"I know, I just - I'm not ready to lose her," Paul says meekly.

"Yeah, I know," Melissa says, still gentle, like he might break.

"When you know she won't change her mind ever, you gotta stop," Ted says, surprising Paul. There is a look in his eyes Paul hasn't seen before. He looks _solemn._ "At some point you can't keep fooling yourself. It's never going to happen. There is nothing to wait for."

"Ted..." Paul says, both feeling surprise and pity towards his friend.

"That was..." Melissa looks between them, "really profound."

"Yeah," Paul nods, "and helpful."

"Newsflash, fuckwards," Ted says, "I'm not a terrible person." Paul and Melissa both laugh.

"Of course, sorry," Melissa says. She pats his shoulder.

They talk a bit more, but Paul's thoughts keep returning to Ted's words. He's sure that Ted is speaking from experience with Charlotte, but that doesn't mean there isn't some truth to it all. He wonders if this is the same situation. Is Ted right? Should he stop the thing with Emma?

Melissa tells them about the woman she's dating. She sounds nice. Ted makes one comment about them being a hot couple, but Melissa kicks him in the shin right away, making him shut up. Not long after Ted has to go, so he leaves them to finish their drinks. Melissa suggests they take a walk, and when they are outside on the street again, she looks up and him and gives him an encouraging smile.

"It'll be okay, Paul," she says.

"You think so?" he asks.

"Of course," she responds, "I am sure she fancies you, you're a total catch."

"I'm glad both lesbians I know agree on that," Paul jokes. Melissa chuckles.

"But seriously, you can fix this," she insists, "there is a solution."

"Yeah, and apparently Ted has the deepest insight," he says. Melissa laughs loudly, clapping his arm.

"Who would have fucking thought! " She hooks her arm around his, and they begin walking. "I am sorry Charlotte won't leave Sam for him. I think he would make her happier."

"I agree," Paul nods, "Sam is terrible. I wish they would separate."

"Poor Ted, he clearly knew all about your pain," Melissa says with a sigh, "but I think you have a bigger shot. Charlotte has been refusing to choose Ted for ages."

"I hope so," Paul says. He tells her about the mug and all the casual kisses and Melissa squeals.

"Good signs, good signs," she says.

As Paul drives home, he hopes she's right. He hopes he doesn't have to listen to Ted's advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, when I was planning this early on: i don't wanna drag out the angsty confusion  
> Me now: woops 
> 
> IM SORRY. I PROMISE IT WILL BE OK. Also I love Ted and I had to give him the 'newflash fuckwads' quote from cxg, which i loove. also Emma saying 'the situation is a lot more nuanced than that' is a recurring cxg quote. So yay. References that apparently only I get :p 
> 
> Let me know what you thought!! Or if you spot a typo or grammatical error. It's 11.30 pm ish for me and I have been sick, so I probably missed some.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER Y'ALL. WOOO.

Emma opens her eyes and groans. Her head is pounding and she has a vile taste in the back of her throat. Just the thought of sitting up makes her stomach turn. Fuck, how much did she drink last night? She can't remember much. She closes her eyes again and tries to fall back asleep. There comes a _clang_ noise from the bathroom. She wonders if Paul dropped something?

Her eyes fly open again.

Paul? Did she write Paul last night?

Dread spreads through her. What if it's not Paul? Did she bring someone else home? No, no, no. She tries to think back, and a flimsy image of a fitness dude and body tequila shots appears. Her stomach turns again. _Oh no._ She tries to sit up, ignoring the stabs of pain through her head. She's wearing a top and underwear, so there is hope. She hears steps from the bathroom, and then her bedroom door opens, revealing Zoey, dressed in what looks like Emma's old Oasis t-shirt. Relief washes through her, and she sighs.

"Oh, you're awake," Zoey says, walking in.

"Barely," Emma replies, rubbing her eyes, "why are you wearing my t-shirt?"

"You spilled beer on my shirt, so I took it," Zoey answers, sitting down on the bed, "you don't remember?"

"No, not really," Emma shrugs.

"Figures, you drank everything in that bar," Zoey says and chuckles to herself.

"Did anything happen?" Emma asks, nervous about the response. Her top is clinging to her clammy skin and her mouth feels dry.

"We had beers and shots and then we chatted up those two dudes," Zoey says, "and had a lot more shots. One of the guys really wanted to go home with me, but you were about to get in a fight with a chair, so I figured I should get you home."

"Thanks," Emma says, "and - uh - sorry for ruining your potential hook-up."

"Nah," Zoey does a dismissive hand movement, "he wasn't that good a kisser anyway."

Emma chokes on a laugh. "I feel like shit."

"You look like shit," Zoey replies, looking like she is fighting a laugh. "You want anything? Cuz otherwise I'm gonna head home."

"No thanks," Emma replies and rubs her eyes again. She looks at the smeared makeup on her knuckles.

"Okay," Zoey gets up and gets dressed in her shorts. She looks over at Emma and grins. "I'm keeping the shirt until you wash my uniform."

"Fair," Emma nods. Zoey pauses in the door, and walks back inside.

"Oh, shit, I almost forgot," she says and fishes something out of her purse. Emma's phone."You told me to hold this and not let you text Paul."

" _Huh_ ," Emma just says. The phone doesn't respond when she presses the buttons, so she puts it in the charger. She says another thanks to Zoey. She needs to drink some water, but she can't get herself to move.

Finally she stands up on shaky legs and staggers into the kitchen, hoping the movement won't upset her stomach too much. She fills a glass with water and slowly sips it. Standing up is too much work, so she slinks down to the floor, leaning against her cabinets. She closes her eyes and rest her head against the terribly painted wooden cabinet door. She sighs deeply.

She still can't remember everything from last night, but one memory is vivid in her mind. Seeing Paul and that girl talking or flirting or whatever it was. Just thinking about it makes her skin crawl and her heart pound. It's silly, because she hadn't considered this problem at all.

She freaked out when she realized she liked him. Because she wasn't planning on falling, because feelings are scary and she doesn't like commitment of any kind. She has been so focused on her own feelings and what to do with them, she hasn't looked much further than that. She hasn't even considered whether or not Paul even returns her feelings.

Now it's all she can think of.

The arrangement said no strings, no attachment. So there is a very real possibility he doesn't feel the same. Emma's head throbs. She shouldn't be thinking about all this today. She should sleep off her hangover and avoid the rest of the world. She sips the water again and her stomach complains weakly.

Before forcing herself back in bed, she refills the glass and grabs a bag of crackers. She curls up under the covers and sighs. She turns her phone back on. It lights up, and she leaves it by her pillow. She has almost dozed off when the phone starts vibrating with incoming notifications. She picks up the phone and sees a text from Paul. It's from last night. _What are you up to tonight?_ and then a beer emoji.

Emma groans. She should probably reply something. Tell him her phone died or apologize for not getting back to him. But she can't. She puts the phone down again and closes her eyes. She can't deal with this right now.

* * *

Paul sits down on the couch after vacuuming the house. Lettuce ran outside this morning, and he seized the opportunity to do it without scaring her. He has made himself a sandwich, and his little bluetooth speaker is playing his favorite playlist. He has been keeping himself distracted, so he doesn't begin moping about the fact that it's almost been two days and Emma still hasn't replied to his text. As long as he keeps his mind busy with cleaning or sorting through mail or something, he won't notice the ache in his chest.

He knows he is being silly. It's the first time she hasn't replied to him, so it shouldn't mean something, but he can't help but wonder, if this is confirming his fear about her slipping away. Another part of him isn't surprised. This was always borrowed time. He never had a real shot with her.

Paul groans, and rubs his eyes under the glasses. He tells himself to pull it together. He is being dramatic and he knows it. He sighs and finishes his sandwich. Then he gets back up, heading into the kitchen to put the plate in the dishwasher. He makes more coffee and pours it into the mug Emma gave him. His heart does a little throb as he looks at it.

Yep. This is actually happening. He giving sad puppy eyes to a mug telling him he has a big dick.

How the fuck did he end up like this?

He carries the mug with him into the dining room and sips coffee while sorting through the stack of mail from the week. He glances over at the side of the table, where Emma had been sitting that Saturday afternoon, when neither of them really had time to meet up, but they still did. He can still see her sit on the table, sundress pushed up near her hips, hair wild and curly like he likes it. It's like she's right there, mocking him. Smiling impatiently at him.

Paul swallows and refocuses on the mail. It only works for a little while. Then he looks back up. He can practically hear her say _come on Matthews, we don't got all day._

Fuck this. He gets up, grabs his mug and the pile of mail, before walking into the kitchen. He is planning on sitting there and sorting mail. He stops in the door, staring at the kitchen floor. Nope. Emma practically tackled him to the floor there.

He leaves, heading upstairs. They haven't had sex in his tiny guest bedroom. He can sort mail in there then!

Paul is glad no one else is witness to this, so he doesn't have to try to explain why he is hiding in his own guest bedroom, sitting on the floor, hiding from these weird _Ghosts of Sexy Pasts_. When he has sorted through the mail, he heads back downstairs and rinses his mug, ignoring the part of the floor where Emma did some stuff to him.

He sits down on the couch again and turns on the TV. He starts an old episode of _the Office_ , but he has to stop it again, because watching Jim pine after Pam is just a little too close to home for now. Instead he changes course completely and starts the first episode of _Band of Brothers_.

Halfway through the episode, he has stretched out on the couch, placing his feet on the armrest. His phone _dings_. He looks at it. It's from Emma, but it's not a text. She just placed a new word in their _words with friends_ game. Strange. It's not a good word either. She must have some shitty letters.

At least that means she's alive, but it's still odd. Why wouldn't she text him back? He checked earlier and she had definitely seen the message. Why would she play the game, but not respond? Is it because he asked about her night, and it doesn't matter now? Maybe he should text her again? Ask how things are?

There is a meow coming from the kitchen, and then Lettuce comes into the living room. She jumps up next to him and then steps up on his stomach and lies down there. Paul smiles. He is really lucky to have this little cat. She begins purring, and Paul turns down the volume of the TV, so the war noises won't scare her away again.

One thought keeps lurking in the back of his mind. Is Ted right?

He supposes that if Emma isn't interested in more, Ted _is_ right. It's becoming too much for him. Ending it would be the right thing to do in the long run. But the thought of never seeing her again, never kissing her or hearing her laugh again. He can't even imagine it. He is just so absolutely _uselessly_ in love with her.

Ever since he realized he loves her, he has told her about it with his actions. Every kiss and touch has been an expression of how much he cares about her. But, can he really keep kissing her, knowing she doesn't do the same? That every kiss for her is an expression of lust, but not love?

He knows deep down that he can't in the long run.

But he also knows that he will keep wanting just one more last kiss.

Melissa and Alice seem hopeful. Maybe he is worrying for nothing? All these thoughts are leading up to the same conclusion, but he doesn't want to draw it. Paul sighs and pets Lettuce. "I should talk to her, shouldn't I?" he asks his purring cat. He looks at her for a moment. "Yeah, you're right. I should. If she rejects me, then I still have you, Lettuce."

He closes his eyes for a moment.

 _Right_.

* * *

She stays home from work on Monday. Calls in sick and stays in her pjs and sulks in her bedroom. Emma knows it's childish, but seeing Paul at work right now is not what she needs. Plus, she isn't in the mood to give any form of customer service today. Although, if she is being honest, she never really is. Zoey texts her and asks if she is sick or lovesick. Emma tells her to shut up.

Being at home sucks too, though. Because now her stupid shower reminds her of Paul knocking his head into the shower head. And her dresser reminds her of when they made out while she was pinned between him and it, and she had considered if they would be able to have sex against it, until Paul had pulled her into bed with him instead. And her kitchen table reminds her of his long body squeezed in there, smiling at her as she made breakfast.

In the afternoon, she looks through her drawers until she finds the little box of emergency cigarettes she keeps there. There is three left inside, alongside a lighter with Minions on it. She snort-laughs, as she remembers buying it because it was so inappropriate. " _Hey parents, buy this lighter for your dumb kids. It has Minions_ ," she says to herself and laughs dryly. She walks into the kitchen and opens the window, before climbing onto the window sill. She sits with one foot on the chair next to her, and the other lifted up in front of her. She lights the cigarette and takes a deep drag.

As she smoke hits her lungs, she closes her eyes. It's been a while since she last smoked. She almost has to cough, but gets control over it. It's not like she misses it from day to day, but when she does smoke again, she is reminded of why she used to love it. She takes another drag of the cigarette and blows the smoke out of the open window.

What is she going to do?

She still hasn't written him - although she did place a word in their game, just so she could feel a little closer to him for a second. It wasn't her proudest moment.

The thing is, it's not like she is jealous of that one woman in particular. She knows Paul, he isn't an outgoing flirty guy and even if the two of them looked chummy, it doesn't mean Paul was _aware_ they were flirting. It had taken him forever to invite _her_ home that first night after all.

It's more the thought that some other woman _could_ come in and swoop him off his large feet and take him away. With all their hook-ups, it's hard to imagine he has time to go out and find other girls, but that doesn't mean it won't happen one day. It's a thought Emma hadn't considered before and she doesn't like it. Not at all. It sucks, because she still doesn't like commitment and being someone's girlfriend sounds gross. Although she has to admit being Paul's girlfriend sounds a lot less gross than being some other guy's. Emma blows out more smoke and sighs, resting her head against the window frame.

She supposes the question is what she wants? Does she want Paul?

Her body shuts down at the question, simply refusing to open that box. _Fuck_. She really is good at repressing all her shit. She looks out the window and takes another drag. She places the cigarette in the small ashtray next to her foot. Then she rubs her temples. Okay, another question.

How would she feel, if she stopped seeing Paul? If she focused on school and her family and making shitty coffee. And then, one day, in a year or more, Paul would walk into Beanies with some girl, and he'd order a disgustingly sweet coffee for her and a black for himself, and he'd place his hand on the small of her back and laugh at something she was saying. And Emma would hand him the coffees, and he would look at her and recognize her, before leaving with his new girlfriend.

Emma immediately hates this fictional woman so passionately, it surprises her. _Ugh_ , that woman would be the worst. She would probably wear polka dots and play the ukulele or knit him sweaters and make him eat rawfood cakes or some shit.

She looks at her hands, before picking up the cigarette. She takes a long drag. This answers her question, right? If the thought of Paul getting another girlfriend makes her so angry, she wants to throw hot coffee after the fictional girl, she isn't willing to give him up.

 _Fuck_.

That means commitment and feelings, right? Telling him about the feelings and making him understand.

She jumps down from the window and stretches. She thinks about Paul pressing her against the kitchen counter and kissing her while he touched her silky shorts. The soft relief in his eyes when she promised to cheer him up. She thinks about how much he laughs, whenever she cracks a joke, even at his expense. How cute he looks, when his eyes crinkle and he throws his head back.

She remembers how he listened to her talk about Jane without judging her. Like he just got her and didn't think any less of her. How good she feels when she is around him. Yeah, feelings and commitment fucking suck, but maybe she has found a guy that's worth it? She's starting to think so.

 _Holy fucking shit._ She must really like him.

Emma makes a cup of coffee in the Tinkerbell mug and sits down. So, what now? Does she call him? Text him and ask him out?

She should probably tell him in person. Be honest and upfront and face to face. It's easier to hide behind the phone. She finishes her coffee and then she goes into her bedroom to get dressed. It's a warm, humid day, and the sky is covered in clouds, so she puts on cut-off jeans and a top. She stares at her phone. Paul would be done with work soon. Maybe she should just drive to his house and tell him straight up. She should try not to choke on her swallowed pride and just say it. _I like you, dude_.

She wonders how he will react. Does he like her back? She really hopes so. It's a scary, but exhilarating thought. She goes into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Her heart is pounding in her chest. He could like her, it's not unrealistic. She fell for him, so it would make sense for him to have fallen too. His behavior is definitely not sending signals about her being insignificant. She must matter to him somehow. She has to! She thinks about the way he looked at her last time they had sex. Underneath her on the couch, looking up at her with those beautiful eyes of his, he had been so present and she had felt so seen. That doesn't happen with a guy who doesn't care. Right?

Filled with determination, she grabs her purse and denim jacket, puts on her sneakers and opens the front door, only to remember her kitchen window is still open. She runs into the kitchen, closes the window and then moves to the front door. She checks her pockets one last time, and then she heads down to her car. She's wired, feeling almost hyperactive as she slides into the seat and puts the key in the ignition. Her car stutters and dies down.

 _Fuck_. Not now.

She turns the key again. It still doesn't start. She tries a few more times and then gives up. She crawls out of the car and sighs. Maybe she can walk there? It's not that far. She exhales loudly and starts walking in the direction of Paul's house.

* * *

Paul is tired after work. He parks his car and heads inside, removing his tie and throwing it on the dresser in the hall. He still hasn't heard from Emma. She wasn't even at Beanies today. Her taller coworker - Zoey if he remembers correctly - caught him staring sadly around the shop and said _she's sick today_. He kind of wanted to show up at her place with soup or cake or something nice for her, but he didn't think that was the right move.

He needs to talk to her though. This no strings thing has reached its end and it's time for something else. Either something more or nothing at all. He sighs and walks up the stairs to his bedroom to change out of his suit. Heavy raindrops hit the window and he looks outside. The clouds are now really dark and not just grey. That was fast. He takes off the jacket and hangs it up. Then the rain hits the window harder and he can hear the wind howl.

Lettuce doesn't like storms, so Paul heads back downstairs to find her. She isn't sleeping in her little nook in the living room, and he can't find her anywhere else. He rushes back upstairs, but she isn't in the bedroom or guestroom. _Fuck_. It's starting to really come down outside. Paul runs back downstairs, changes to his most waterproof sneakers and his large, dark green raincoat. He pulls up the hood and goes into his front yard. He looks around for Lettuce, but she isn't in the front or the back yard.

The rain is splattering against the pavement as he walks down the street. She could be hiding under a bush somewhere. He is trying to keep himself from getting too worried. She's a smart cat, she will probably have hidden in someone's garden shed, but he still can't help but keep looking. Not many people are out walking, but it's still a little odd to walk around and call out _Lettuce_. He adds a _kitty kitty_ after, just so the people passing him don't think he is calling for actual lettuce.

He decides to circle around and head home. He tell himself that she's fine. His shoes and pants are getting soaked, and he tries to avoid the biggest puddles. The smell of rain is heavy in the air and it's getting darker. Paul really hopes he'll either find Lettuce on the way home, or she'll be there when he comes back. He really doesn't like the thought of her being out here.

He looks up as he nears his own street, spotting someone walking towards him. Whoever they are, they aren't dressed for the rain. Poor soul. He gets closer and narrows his eyes. _Wait_. He knows that small frame and that now-soaked denim jacket.

" _Emma?_ " he says, quickening his pace, so he reaches her. She looks up at him, squinting through the rain.

"Paul?" she sounds full of disbelief. "Why are you out here? What are you wearing?"

"It's my rainco- what are _you_ wearing?" he asks back, because she's the one who doesn't looked dressed for outside at all.

"It wasn't raining when I left!" she says defensively. Her hair is clinging to the side of her face and she looks cold.

"Did you walk here?" Paul asks, stepping a little closer.

"Yes," she says, and wraps her arms around herself. "Paul, listen. I - I came here to talk to you."

"Maybe we should head inside?" he suggests, pointing in the direction of his house, but she shakes her head. _Uh oh_ , that's not a good sign. He swallows.

"No, uh," she looks down for a moment, and then lifts her gaze, meeting his. There is something in her eyes he doesn't recognize. She licks her lips and begins to speak, "Paul, I know that this is against the rules, but - _fuck_ \- I like you." It takes a second before her words register. She likes him? His heart leaps and jumps in his chest. "I'm falling for you and I can't -"

He cuts her off mid-sentence, throwing himself forward. With his hands holding the sides of her face, he kisses her deeply, letting all of his feelings for her pour into the kiss. _She_ _likes him back!_ She likes him and he is kissing her and she's kissing him back, pushing his hood away to cup his jaw.

* * *

Emma holds onto Paul as tight as she can, kissing him with everything she has. She doesn't even notice how cold she is, instead she now feels warm and fluttery. Paul's thumbs are pressing against her cheekbones, warm and pleasant, anchoring her in the moment. He pulls back momentarily and she blinks the rain out of her eyes and looks up at him. There is a deep warmth in her chest, spreading out as his eyes watch her with a deep softness. Water is dripping from the hair on his forehead and from the tip of his nose.

"Emma, I like you," he says, resting his forehead against hers and closing his eyes, "I like you so much, it's completely ridiculous."

She lets out a nervous little laugh, closing her eyes too. Her hands move down his chest and tightens against the fabric of his stupid raincoat. He looks absolutely adorable in it. "Good," she says, "because otherwise kissing me right now would have been a pretty douchy move."

"Yeah," he laughs, "I figured you might like to hear it out loud anyway."

"Say it again," she orders.

"I like you so much," he says and she kisses him again. This time his arm wraps around her waist and pulls her against him. Emma tightens her grip on his coat and kisses him more intently.

"I like you too," she whispers against his lips, before kissing him again. Paul smiles into the kiss. They could have stood there for ages, if Emma hadn't started shivering.

"Oh shit, we should get you inside," Paul said, looking concerned. "Do you want my coat?"

"That's sweet, but it doesn't make any sense, I'm already soaked and we are almost at your house," Emma replies. Paul's hand finds hers, and he intertwines their fingers, before beginning walking up his street. Emma follows him, trying to ignore the way her heart sings at their connected hands. "Why were you outside?" she asks him.

"I was looking for Lettuce," he answers and Emma looks up at him with worry. "She doesn't like stormy weather and I got irrationally worried."

" _Oh._ " Emma squeezes his hand. "Wanna continue looking?"

"No, no." he shakes his head, sending drops of water flying, so they join the falling rain. "We should get you home and dry."

They near his house and Emma feels buzzing and excited and not at all cold. Paul is holding her hand and he likes her. It's all a little surreal but in a wonderful way. They walk into his yard and is met with the sight of Lettuce standing on the porch.

" _Lettuce!_ " Paul exclaims happily. She meows and moves through the little kitty door. Emma looks up at Paul and grins. They walk into the house and Paul hangs up his raincoat. Emma takes off her wet shoes and grins when she sees his soaked pants. She pulls off her wet denim jacket, grimacing at the way it clings to her arms. Paul's eyes drop down, and she takes a look at her own appearance. Her top is pretty soaked too, and now clinging to her very visible bra.

"Enjoying the view?" she asks, stepping closer. He grins, flustered and sweet. Emma tilts her head as she examines him. Okay, now that she knows, his feelings for her are so clear on his face. How did she not realize this earlier? She must have been completely caught up in her own shit. Her hands land on his chest and she pulls him into another kiss. Paul makes a noise, and his hands travel up her waist, so his thumb touches the edge of her bra through her shirt.

She pushes herself closer to him, enjoying how warm he is compared to her. Her hand moves up to touch the back of his neck and he hisses. "Your fingers are cold," he whispers, kissing her again.

"What are you gonna do about it?" she asks. Paul laughs and then he lifts her up. She shrieks and wraps arms and legs around him.

"I'm gonna let you take a shower and borrow some clothes," he replies. Emma kisses him again, feeling pretty sure she'll never stop wanting another kiss. Paul takes a few steps towards the stairs and Emma clings to him, a little worried. Paul chuckles and walks up the stairs carefully.

"Paul," Emma laughs, "this is so slow, just put me down. I can walk myself."

"Nope," he huffs, "I'm being romantic."

"Okay, nerd."

He puts her down when they reach the bedroom. Emma heads towards the bathroom and Paul heads towards his closet. She strips out of the wet clothes, hanging up the jeans, top and bra. The underwear seems dry enough, although Emma has no idea how that happened.

She steps into the shower and turns on the water. It gets warm fast and she steps underneath the spray. The hot water feels great on her cold body and she zones out completely. She replays the scene from earlier in her head. Seeing Paul, confessing as fast as possible and then seeing him move forward and kiss her. Walking through the pouring rain was _not_ fun, but it was worth it. A bit dramatic maybe, but worth it none the less.

It's strange - about a week ago, she was standing in this shower, angrily applying shampoo into her hair, because she realized she liked him. Now she is standing in the shower, heating up after confessing to said feelings and getting thoroughly kissed. It's not a bad development. A small part of her regrets not acting on it sooner. But she knows she needed the time to adjust to the feelings. It's not like everything is peachy now. She is still uncomfortable about the whole commitment thing, but right now she's sure it will all work out. Paul seems like he gets her, so hopefully he will be okay with the pace she needs.

When she's feeling warm and relaxed, she shuts off the water and steps out. She dries herself with the towel she used last time. It makes her stomach flutter that he left it there, expecting her to use it again. Not that she'll tell him this. When she's dry, she puts on her underwear again. She is about to go and look for clothes in Paul's closet when she spots a small pile on the bathroom floor. It's a dark blue sweatshirt and it smells like Paul. It's so unlike him to leave laundry on the floor, it makes her smile fondly. She pulls it on, not bothering with a bra. It's so big it covers her ass. She pushes up the sleeves and heads into the bedroom. She finds a pair of socks in his drawer and it puts them on. They reach up her calves. Then she heads downstairs.

* * *

Paul is sitting on the couch, under a blanket. He has made a pot of a tea and brought in two mugs and some honey. Steam is rising from his own mug. He still can't believe Emma is here, liking him back. She likes him and she is here in house. He can't stop smiling. He didn't say _I love you_ yet, but he will at some point. No need to spring that on her already.

He hears her approach and looks up as she enters the living room. His jaw drops. She is practically drowning in his sweatshirt, her legs are bare and she's smiling at him. Her wearing his shirt is stupid hot, but he also wants to cuddle her. She joins him under the blanket, cupping his jaw and pressing a kiss against his lips.

"A shower was a good idea," she says, leaning forward and pouring a cup of tea. She scoops a big teaspoon of honey into the mug and stirs.

"That's good," Paul nods. They talk a little about their week. Emma excitedly tells him she visited her sister's grave with her nephew and brother-in-law and it seemed like they made a breakthrough. Paul brushes her hair behind her ear and tells her he is proud of her. She tells him several things about her nephew, smiling widely. It warms him to see how much she cares about this kid.

"So, _um_ ," Emma smiles, before sipping from her tea, "y'know my whole thing with my sister and family? I am still working through my issues, so if we could hold off on stuff like _boyfriend-girlfriend_ terms, then that would help. Is - is that cool?"

"Of course." Paul nods. "Anything you need." He is a little disappointed, but just admitting liking each other is such a big step forward, he can wait with the bigger things. He smiles at her.

"I knew I liked you for a reason," Emma grins, pressing a kiss onto his lips. The words make his heart beat faster. She likes him.

"I thought it was for my dashing good looks," Paul jokes. Emma barks out a loud laugh, falling forward. "Okay, _ow,_ " he comments.

"I'm sorry," she says, when she stops laughing and has put down her tea. She kisses him again, opening her mouth and running her hand down his chest. "you're hot, Paul," she whispers. It makes his skin tingle. He kisses her deeply, and Emma flings her leg over his thighs under the blanket. Paul places his hand on her leg, and slowly moves it upwards. Emma makes a little noise and moves closer, practically crawling onto his lap. They are kissing deeply, mouths open and breaths growing heavy. Paul's hand is moving across her thigh now, and he pauses, letting his fingers move back and forth across the soft skin. Emma hums under her breath and her teeth scrape across his lip. He moves his hand upwards again, under the sweatshirt and up her hip, until his fingers find her underwear and touches the fabric. Emma pauses and pulls back. She looks at him and narrows her eyebrows. "Actually, can we not have sex right now?" she asks.

"Of course!" Paul says, immediately pulling his hand out and feeling bad, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Emma says and presses a kiss against his lips. She smiles. "I totally plan for you to raw me later. I just kind of wanted to enjoy this moment a little more."

"That sounds nice," Paul says and smiles. She sits back down next to him and nestles close up against him. He smiles into her still damp hair. "You might have to explain to me exactly how _raw_ _ing_ works, because I'm not familiar with the concept."

She laughs and he can feel her shake. "You're such a fucking dork, Paul," she says and kisses his shoulder. There is a small pause and then she adds more. "You definitely know how to raw me. I'm pretty sure that's what made me realize I like you."

Paul holds his breath but she doesn't say more. He finally exhales and closes his eyes and holds her closer. After some time, he can hear her breathing grow deeper and slower. He smiles to himself. His heart is still beating too fast for him to fall asleep, but it's a perfect feeling to sit like this. Emma likes him and she seems very open about it, which is really all he needs. He would like to be her boyfriend but there is no rush.

He is excited for all the things this will bring. He knows it's lame, but he really looks forward to silly, small things like having a picture of her on his phone. Maybe going to the movies or holding hands in public. That will be nice. And this, most of all. Sitting with her here and just enjoying each others' company. He definitely also looks forward to more of this _rawing_ thing.

Somehow he also ends up dozing off and he wakes up when something cold presses against his hand. He opens his eyes and sees Lettuce next to him. The cat taps him with her paw and then curls up next him. Paul wonders if she was checking if he was alive. He smiles. Having Emma and Lettuce here is pretty much all he needs.

Emma stirs next to him. She spots him and Lettuce and moves forward so she can pet her. "I'm actually just here for the cat," she tells him. Paul chuckles as Lettuce begins to purr.

"Figures," he says, "Lettuce is the real prize here."

"Using your cat to lure me in was smart," Emma jokes as she lifts her head and kisses him. Her hair is almost dry and Paul wonders how long they were asleep. "It worked."

"I mean, a guy's gotta do what he can," Paul jokes back, not entirely proud of the comeback. Emma looks at him for a moment, smiling so crinkles form around her eyes. There is a sweet tenderness in her look and Paul can't stop a dopey grin from appearing on his face.

Emma leans forward, pressing a kiss against his chest. Then she moves up, pressing another against his neck, then jaw and finally his mouth. She moves, so she is looking down at him and then she smiles at him wickedly. In an almost threatening tone, she says "I'm going to date the hell outta you."

Paul returns her grin. He places his hand on the back of her neck. "I can't _fucking_ wait," he says and then he drags her down into a greedy kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOOO I finished the fic??? wtf 
> 
> Note: there is nothing wrong with polka dots, ukuleles and rawfood cakes. Be as Zoey Deschanel as you want. This was just Emma being Emma. 
> 
> I HOPE Y'ALL LIKED THIS LAST CHAPTER. Please leave a smol comment and let me know! I have loved all your support through this. THANK YOU BABES! <3<3  
> Also: I maaaaay have an idea for a lil follow-up fic. So if you are interested in that, keep an eye on this space.


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